


Blood in Men

by Dragon_Mage



Series: Don't Cross Mercenaries [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Cheating, F/M, Harassment, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Multi, Other, Sexual Content, Stalker, Unwanted attention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:40:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 46
Words: 145,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_Mage/pseuds/Dragon_Mage
Summary: Mann Co has been trying to shuffle Spies and other mercenaries in their arsenal to the side of whatever they are doing.Finding himself in an awkward situation, Hugh digs his way out of Mann Co's grip. He will have to seek the use of his entire arsenal as a Spy to make his way from his terrifying situation to where he belongs. Unfortunately, it also puts him in the spotlight on a drama show.A small story on the side of two lonely people





	1. Frenemies

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the new addition to "Don't Cross Mercenaries."  
> This story will not have the same characters, but will follow a similar theme. This is a somewhat isolated story, with fewer characters. These characters were introduced in They are Called Family, but you do not have to read that series to enjoy this story, I think.  
> For those questioning the Spies in regards to the Hope series, this is what the Spies are doing instead of that. Events from the first story will come into play.
> 
> Antoine finally gets a love story.

Toronto, March, 2008

Blend into Mann Co’s shoddy system, that was all the Spy had to do. So long as he did not go noticed amongst the many other Spies, there was no way Mann Co could target him. As long as the contract existed, there was data about him, which was what Miss Pauling had assured them all of.

The more he laid in the hard bed thinking about this, the more he thought she might have tricked them all. Maybe she lucked out and missed the chance to catch the others. All she caught were spies.

He turned on his side and tried to ignore the snoring on the bunk above him. Nothing could aid his aching mind. Nothing made him feel any better about his situation.

When he decided to get up, he could not pull his gaze up from the floor. His entire body felt so heavy. He was not sure how to breathe anymore. Sure, his body understood it had to breathe, yet there was this innate feeling that he could not breathe anymore. It was a very painful sensation.

He forced himself onto his feet and stumbled to the shared bathroom. Since the eight Spies sharing this bathroom were all asleep, he figured he would not have much problem. All of them had to use it, and all of them wanted their privacy, after all.

When he dusted his face with cold water, he looked into the mirror. He looked so different than he remembered. Dark circles around his eyes that seemed to just blend into the mask normally. What used to look like laugh lines just looked like lines of failed years.

Pushing past the misery, he lumbered back into the shared barracks. Forget this, he figured. He needed a smoke at this very moment. That would probably wake one of the others though. This was a small room, anyways.

He pulled on a coat and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Hopefully it would not be empty by the time he returned. He tried not to think about it on his way out. He lit up the first cigarette and took a deep inhale. It felt good to just feel that hot breath in his lungs, a relaxing sensation that came from psychological training of having smoked nicotine for a lifetime.

His eyes were closed most of the time as he walked. Mostly he was just trying to get away from the building. He wanted to be outside, where it was cool and the air was open. He could smoke in peace and the land itself was an easy ash tray. Granted, Canada air this time of year was pretty damn cold, but he was too tired to remember to stop walking.

“You a spook or a bloody ghost, mate?” a voice startled him.

He tried not to seem too startled when he stopped and turned. He had not realized that he was passing through what appeared to be a camping area for trailers and camper trucks. This was not a parking lot, given the amount of what was supposed to be wildlife and flora, but it was filled with living trailers and campers that haphazardly encircled ashy pits previously used for fire.

He raised his head to a figure perched upon a big trailer. His long legs dangled over the edge, dark boots sitting stark against white painted metal. The glow of a cigarette illuminated the man’s visage, giving the Spy a glimpse of the Sniper he had not noticed before.

Color was faded in this lighting, but he could make out shapes. A sharp nose, a shapely jaw, bushy sideburns and prominent eyebrows were easy enough to make out. Those eyes were hard to see, despite being lit up so well. They were sharp, like a monster staring into the soul. They just glared at him, like they knew everything within his mind. Still, he could not tell what color his irises were though.

“Ghastly ghoul then,” the Sniper flicked the cigarette away without bothering to put it out.

“Didn’t realize anybody else would be out here,” he countered, trying to seem calm and reasonable, “Sorry to have disturbed you.”

“Not at all mate,” the Sniper did not even miss a beat.

“Alright then,” he replied in relief. He was ready to move on when the Sniper raised a hand to gain his attention again.

“You the one that wears the funny hats? Or you the one with the awkward accent?” he asked, tilting his head in a way as if he could get a better look at the Spy.

Of course, for a moment he had forgotten. What a relief it was to see that the man was just as hindered by the faded light as he was. Given it was night time, the light would not be shining on him either, and as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, so did the light leave his own face.

“Neither,” he assured him, “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

“Been trying to figure them out, mate,” the Sniper leaned over the edge, trying to look at him better. It was a bit entertaining to see him strain to try and look at him. “That one with the hats is a bit of a flowery fella,” he explained, “And that one with the accent…he sounds like a faggot.”

“Excuse me?” that word lit him up like a flame. He needed to get out of here immediately.

“No worries, mate,” the Sniper chuckled, with a wry smirk around his cigarette, “I know the lot of you Frenchies are loose. I just want to know which of yous likes men like I like men.”

He felt like the hackles on the back of his neck were severely erect. This was not a good situation. This was a very weird situation. This was a very bizarre conversation that he could very well be having in a weird dream at this moment.

“Well then, I’ll just be moving along,” he started moving, hoping to breach the edge of this camping ground.

“Now wait a minute!” the man sounded insulted, “You don’t just leave in the middle of a conversation!”

“Um…” he scrunched his brow, “I didn’t ask for a conversation. I needed air. Now I think I need to go back to bed.” Part of him really wanted to believe that this was all some weird awkward dream.

“No wait,” the Sniper suddenly hopped down from his camper. He landed with a loud thump of his feet and a grunt. He took two steps to close the space between him.

There are unique kinds of fears that people can have. Each type of fear comes from different types of threats. Some of them are irrational and pointless, like fearing a tiny spider with nothing but fangs to bite. Other fears come from the realization that a man is bigger and possibly stronger than oneself, putting the odds of defense at a minimal level.

Normally, he would not feel threatened by another Mann Co affiliate. At least, not one of the mercenaries types. Snipers tended to keep to themselves, from his experience. They were the kind of men that came from lone living and keeping to their own personal space in portable living spaces.

This man was setting off so many alarms in his mind. Something deep down told him that if the man was going to do something, he was going to do it fast and without any warning. He was going to act of his own accord, the Spy would feel the effects of it, and Mann Co would either be none the wiser, or simply would not care.

Things were easier back when there were actual teammates. Things were almost predictable when one had people with loyalty to the team. It was just a label or a name, but loyalty to the team made people loyal to you as a teammate. Missing that label, he had nobody to count on. He was just another Mann Co employee, and he was not even sure who he could reach out to if he tried to get away from this man and seek safety in numbers.

“As riveting as this conversation is at the early hours of the morning, I need to be going,” he insisted, backpedaling in the way he came from.

“Ah come on! I was just joshing! A man’s got to lose his inhibitions sometimes!” the Sniper insisted, following him with a long step.

“And a man has to sleep sometimes,” he replied, turning to head back to the building, “Good night, Sniper.”

“Now hold on a minute!” the Sniper grabbed his shoulder, trying to turn him around.

He quickly shook the man’s hand off of his shoulder. It took a quick whip of his arm and a jab of his hand to knock the grip away. The fear was ebbing and growing, coming and going ever so slightly.

“Where are _you_ going?” he demanded.

“Thought I made that clear before,” he continued walking.

There were a few moments of quiet walking, but he could hear the second set of footsteps. The man was following him? The long stride was shortened, keeping pace with him, but staying behind him. The man could have easily overwhelmed him if he was trying to race him.

“What are you doing?” he peered over his shoulder at the man following him.

“Not being the one leaving a conversation!” the Sniper growled.

“Stop following me,” he replied tartly.

“Why?” was the response.

He spotted the building ahead of him and felt his footsteps quicken. The feet behind him also quickened. He should not have done that. He should have kept a steady pace. The man was getting something from this. He probably enjoyed the idea of scaring a Spy.

“Why you running?” the Sniper asked.

He refused to respond. He was hardly running, though he _was_ fleeing the scene. He was not about to stick around and find out what other opinions that Sniper had. He had had his fun scaring a Spy, now it was time to just get away from him and hope he forgot about all of this.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” the man grabbed his shoulder and whipped him around. The motion threw him off balance and he stumbled, barely catching himself on none other than the Sniper. “Huh…” was all the noise the Sniper made.

Spy blinked, trying to regain his wits. He was face to face with the Sniper. They were nose to nose, with their gazes locked. It was extremely awkward, given the current state of his balance.

He shoved off the Sniper hastily. He could only hope the man got the message through the aggression he put into the movement. He carefully brushed off his jacket, as if to say that the Sniper was dirty, without putting it into words.

The Sniper was pretty silent. Suddenly he did not have anything to say. What an odd turn of events, in the Spy’s mind.

“Good night,” he said firmly, before turning and heading into the base.

“W-wait!” the Sniper called after him.

There was something less aggressive in his voice this time. Still, the Spy was not inclined to service the man’s curiosities. He would rather be in bed than to dote on the blatantly aggressive Sniper. Given his behavior before, there was a good chance that he had a temper behind his visage.

He felt a hint of relief as he stepped into the hallway. Its slight familiarity welcomed him, as he walked straight towards the room housing the Spies. It was not a question of where the Spies were staying. Each separate building held a different set of mercenaries. In here, with this simple place, was where the Spies were staying. It just so happened to open up to where the Snipers stayed with their camper trucks and trailers.

One glance over his shoulder revealed that the Sniper had not been dissuaded. It was not common place for other mercenaries to cross over to other buildings. It had been set forth from the beginning, he figured it was especially drilled in for the Spies, that certain classes respected their own members, so they were to stay within their own space or face consequences.

The thought of that outside area being claimed by the Snipers gave him goose bumps. Of course, the Snipers could not claim the _outside_ area. It was the campers themselves that they had claimed, being the only mercenaries who got to have their own spaces here.

Perhaps if he went and bought an RV, he could have his own space on the lot. Sure, it would be awfully close to the Snipers, but he would have his own room away from other people. Sharing his space was becoming more and more unpleasant as of late.

“S-spy?” the voice was almost soft as it called out for him.

He told himself that he would be firm. He would not even turn to entertain the idea tha the could be swayed by the man’s antics. He was certainly not going to direct his attention back to the Sniper, not when the bed was calling to him.

Before he forgot it, he pulled the cigarette from his mouth and threw it on the ground. He paused a moment to stomp on it. He quickly resumed walking, not wanting to wait for the Sniper to be upon him.

Much to his dismay, when he reached the bedroom door, he found that the Sniper was right behind him. The man had stayed a stride behind him, with a much faster pace than the Spy himself could manage. Now he was breathing down his neck as his hand reached for the handle.

“You’re just going to ignore me?” the Sniper asked, his breath causing chills down the Spy’s spine, despite wearing a balaclava.

“Yes,” he said, as he slowly opened the door and slipped inside.

He kept it as far closed as he could, not wanting to give him a good and easy look at the space inside. This was Spy territory. It was no place for the Sniper to be snooping around in. After all, if Spies had to respect the other classes’ spaces, then they had to respect the Spies’ space.

When he tried to close the door, he found it blocked. He turned his head to look and saw that the Sniper had his boot between the door and the frame. He had a deadpan look on his face, still staring at the Spy’s face as if he was stuck on him.

What a nightmare. A Sniper had already harassed him and scared him into retreating in humiliation back to his own space. Then he was stalked by said Sniper. Now he was being refused privacy by him?

He hoped that the anger showed on his face. He did not care if he should keep an aloof look, he was angry. For once, he just wanted to be angry.

“Wait, what’s your name?” the Sniper spoke softly, so as not to disturb other Spies who were asleep.

“None of your business,” the Spy whispered.

“I made it my business,” the Sniper said, “You made it my business when you came trotting into my domain and put your eyes in my heart.”

“What the- What does that even mean?” he was almost too loud, taken aback by what the Sniper was saying.

“I’m asking what your name is,” the Sniper said, in that low rumbly voice, “I’m just asking for a name.”

“Just a name?” he was suspicious that this might lead to more. He had to be sure that this ended the conversation with the Sniper. What if another Spy woke up and made assumptions about what was going on? “That’s all you want? Just a name? And then you’ll leave?”

The Sniper nodded slowly, “I’ll leave. So long as you give me that name of yours.”

He did not miss a beat when he said, “Jacques.”

He paused, studying the man’s face. At first, he did not seem to be buying the lie. Eventually, he gave a soft little smile. Whatever he was smiling about was beyond the Spy. Had he even considered that the Spy was lying? Or was the hesitation just a moment of thought?

“Jacques,” the Sniper repeated, pronouncing it carefully on his tongue, like some foreign word, “I’ll remember that. I’ll remember you, Jacques.”

Spy rolled his eyes, “Let’s forget this ever happened.”

The moment he saw the boot slip away from the door, he closed and locked it. It was usually not locked, since some of the Spies came and went, and nobody else came in here anyways. He did not want to give the Sniper the power to just open the door and initiate conversation again.

He took a breath and closed his eyes. At times like this, he wished he had his friends around. He thought back to his better days, when he would spend time with Glenn on top of his camper, and nights cuddled against Andrew in his own bed.

Hugh ran a hand up over his face. The despair settled in and it left him with a heavy and weary heart. It hurt so much that he wanted to let it out in tears.

“Something going on?” a whisper took him by surprise.

He turned, carefully gathering his wits about him, “Nothing. Just…couldn’t sleep.”

Whoever had asked was no longer bothered. He let his head drop and closed his eyes again to sleep. Hugh decided to copy that, removing his jacket and shoes so that he could climb into bed and try to sleep again.

Tomorrow would be different. He had to tell himself that. Take each day by itself and command it, before trying to conquer the next day. The next day he at least hoped would be better than the last. He just hit a little uncomfortable bump in the road to whatever was coming.

For now, he would rest. He found himself a semi-comfy spot on the too hard mattress to sleep on. Curled up, he tried to pretend it did not bother him. He even tried imagining that there was somebody right next to him, pressed against his back.

 

When the morning came, so did disappointment. His back and side felt so sore that he did not want to move. Even his jaw felt a little weird because of the mattress. With a tired groan, he peeled himself off of the bed and lumbered to the bathroom.

Locked stalls with ceiling high walls had faucets on from what he could hear. Each man was washing for the day and getting ready in his own little cubby space. A couple of them seemed to command a space as their very own, barring most others from using it, except for select people. He did not understand how it worked, only that those who had claimed a stall would get pissy and passive aggressive whenever somebody else went in their stall.

Hugh did not care. He just wanted to get his work done so that he did not have to think about this mess. It should be easy enough to put this all behind him in his mind.

Not caring at the mess that he was, and not wanting to look at a mirror anyways, he pulled a suit over his undershirt and boxer shorts. There was not too much to hide here. He had long since gotten over being around these other men. Besides, not many of them were around to see them, being either lazily asleep or already prepping in the stalls.

He stepped out of the door, heading down the hall to reach the cafeteria in the northern court. It was not really a cafeteria designed for mercenaries in any specific way. Rather, it was a set of stalls of food vendors allowed to sell their wares and goods to the mercenaries without the mercenaries having to go far. It made the vendors very uncomfortable, but they knew they could make good money off of men who either could not drive themselves to the next town east, or the next city north, or the village down south.

Hugh kept telling himself he would get his ass out of this area, get away from hooligans and go to the city to treat himself. He already missed going to cafes and trying local goods. There was always some sweet little lady who just wanted to share her home cooking.

Being as down as he was, he could not bring himself to drive anywhere. There was a car he was permitted to drive, according to Antoine, but he barely spared the time to think about going anywhere. Actually getting himself somewhere was a whole other battle entirely.

When he reached the food courts, he found that the people were just starting to roll in like himself. Other Spies would come later, to pick at whatever the other had not bought up. Much to Hugh’s enjoyment, he was here before the other classes rushed in and created huge lines to wait through, with no seats at the large tables to sit at.

A normal platter of an American breakfast was sold to him. Not that it was terrible, but it was not particularly interesting or unique in any way. It left him wanting something much better. He was constantly feeling like he had not had enough spice in his meal. Perhaps it was just the boredom of having near the same meal every morning. That should have been the thing to get him in the car and going to the city.

With a reserved sigh, he made his way around the court to an area that would have the least foot traffic once people starting rolling in. He wanted to finish quickly too though, as the other Spies would eventually be here, and they were a lot that he wanted to avoid. He was sick of being around them all the time.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I can find-” his head whipped around at the Australian accent. For a moment, his mind had fooled him and the visage of Glenn appeared before his imaginary eye. To his surprise, it was some other Sniper, whose curiously tilted head was straightening and whose lips were curling into a smile.

“Find?” he quickly retorted, so as to save any awkwardness. He was still very tired, very sore and in need of his meal before the rest started filling up the court with their platters of food and their loud babbling.

“I did find you,” the man smiled with delight. He looked rather giddy, showing the Spy his sharp canines.

“Um…yes?” he felt confused and figured he should move along before any other problems came up, “I must be going now.” He started towards one of the tables to sit down and eat.

“Hold on! Wait up!” the Sniper called to him.

He set his tray down and glanced around. He was relieved to see that the Sniper was nowhere to be seen. He sighed, taking his seat on the bench, pushing the man out of his mind.

He began cutting the honey roasted ham slices. He was immediately disgusted as the syrup spilled and began soaking the meat. Sure, it tasted good on the eggs, but he did not like to over sweeten ham.

“I was worried I wouldn’t find you!” he was startled by the Sniper reappearing with a platter in his hands. He was sitting down beside him as if he had been invited. “Here I thought you would have gone off to the city for some fancy breakfast elsewhere! Glad you didn’t, so I could find you!”

Hugh sighed at being reminded of that terrible regret. Over sweetened ham, and now an annoyance to chase him off to the city. If this kept happening, then he was definitely going to drive off to the city for lunch.

“You something of a sweet tooth, mate?” the Sniper chuckled, cutting his sausage and stuffing his mouth. He was not one for manners, and certainly did not mind getting way too close to the Spy’s personal space. “Syrup and honey both? That’s something!”

He rolled his eyes in irritation, resigning himself to eating the eggs instead.

“Holy dooly,” the Sniper muttered.

He studied him from the corner of his eye, while the Sniper gave him the most incredulous look. What was he, a show for him? He just wanted to eat his eggs and get on with his day!

“Never met a Spy who wouldn’t talk,” the Sniper’s tonal pitch rose as he spoke, “I know you can talk though. I heard you last night! I know it was you.”

Hugh slammed his fork into the plate and turned to him, “What the hell do you want?!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” the Sniper furrowed his brow in a look similar to worry, “Thought you Spy types were good at reading people!”

“Not obnoxious ones apparently,” he growled in response.

“I just wanna have a chat mate!” the Sniper said, smiling.

“Then go find a Scout, or a Soldier,” he turned back to his eggs, cutting them down to bite size, “Because I have nothing to say to you.”

“What? You’re just going to act like I did something wrong? The hell did _I_ do? I’m only here trying to make friends with polite conversation,” the Sniper’s plea fell on deaf ears as Hugh’s irritation only got hotter.

“I don’t care for your small talk and chit chat,” Hugh spoke with heat in his voice, “And I would thank you to not comment on my every doing! Leave me alone!”

He grabbed his platter and got to his feet. He quickly surveyed the area, looking for a new table to sit at. He would have to move quickly, as other people were starting to crowd the court. He started to step away from the table, when a hand caught his elbow and pulled him off balance.


	2. The RED Sniper from Haunted Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that the Sniper following Hugh around is very persistent, and does not understand personal space...and boundaries.

The elbow was pulled back, so his hand released the tray. His other hand tried to make up for the loss of balance, but it rose too high. The resulting flip of the tray sent it and its contents into the Spy’s face and down the front of his suit. Much to his dismay, he could already feel syrup soaking into his balaclava. It caused a disgusted shiver to run up his spine.

“Sorry!” he could feel the warmth of the Sniper jumping to his feet behind him.

He was so close to him too. It was amazingly close to his personal boundaries that he could feel his hackles rise. He hated that sensation, especially with this particular man.

He stepped forward, yanking his arm out of the man’s grip. He quickly adjusted his clothing and stepped away from the table. There went his breakfast. There went his suit. Looking down at it, he was not sure how he would clean the mess of syrup out of it.

He was distracted just enough for a hand to grab his arm again. “Come on,” the Sniper urged, pulling him along with the strength of a horse. Hugh tried to protest, but he was mostly busy trying to peel the strong grip off his upper arm.

He was not even paying attention to where they were going, not until he looked up and realized that they were approaching the Snipers’ camper trucks. He quickly tried to stop, yanking the other direction to try and flee. The grip on his arm was so strong that he could not simply escape with a determined yank this time.

“This’ll only be a minute,” the Sniper urged in a mumble, as he dragged the Spy into the randomly parked assortment of trucks and trailers.

He gave one last helpless yank. It did not work to free him. He was easily pulled along, dragged right to the Sniper’s truck, where he stopped to pull open the door.

“You don’t even lock your door?” he quipped, hoping to distract the man enough that he might loosen his grip.

“I usually do,” the Sniper offered him an awkward smile, “I just was distracted today.”

He stepped up into the camper, dragging the Spy along with him. This time he was absolutely terrified. He had no idea what the man wanted from him, or what he was going to do. For all he knew he was going to assault him. It was not likely straight up violence, as he might have already done that by now. If it was anything else- No, Hugh would not think about that, terrifying idea.

He did not even getting to turn his train of thought on when the hand left his arm. He did not have time to react before hands were unbuttoning his jacket and trying to pull it away.

“Stop it!” was all he could manage to blurt. He made a dash for the door, and only ended up pulling out of his jacket.

He started to use this to his advantage. With the Sniper distracted with the jacket, and with no grip on the Spy, he could easily get away. All he had to do was run to the easiest location where he could lock the door. His best bet was probably the bedroom the Spies shared.

He had completely forgotten about the Sniper’s size advantage. He was not just strong, he had long legs that could cross distances much faster than he could. By the time he started opening the door, a hand was dragging him back.

“Stop running off! I’m trying to help!” the Sniper barked at him scornfully.

He only got his mouth open, just as long fingers started grabbing his mask. Oh no. He had managed to keep his face covered since being here. He had not been caught by a single camera, hiding his face from anybody he did not care to know his identity. Not that the Spies here _had_ to do that, but old habits died hard, especially with Spies.

He cried out in fear and repulsion. He reached up to grab his balaclava, trying to hold it on. It was being stretched between staying on his neck and being pulled right off. He could not see anymore, as the eyeholes had been pulled away, and now it was tugging up on his nose.

“Let go!” the Sniper managed to force the balaclava up and over his head.

Panic struck him. What to do? The Sniper had taken away his sense of defense, leaving him feeling naked. Now he wanted nothing more than to just flee and run for his life. He did not want to look back, even for his mask. Yet, as he looked upon the door handle, he realized that his face would be caught by the cameras and he would be seen.

A faucet was turned on. His eyes darted to the sink, where the Sniper was scrubbing at the balaclava to get the sticky mess out. He was actually trying to help? Of course, an idiot like that would try and make things better by making them worse.

He could not believe he had actually thought the Sniper was going to assault him. Though, he seemed rather stupid if he thought dragging him here was appropriate. The man was easily a threat by his strengths alone.

He took a breath to calm himself down. Do not let the adrenaline get to you. He had to think through his situation carefully. If he just left things as they were, he might run into some trouble.

Then again, looking at the jacket, it was just a useless thing that he had several others of. That one was a bit older and worn out. It did not hold anything precious or dear to him, nor would it tell anybody his identity. He could do to lose it for now.

The balaclava was just a standard issue balaclava. The company actually made them a one-size-fits-all thing, until a couple decades ago, when somebody complained that the balaclava was too small for their head. It was funny to think about, but it turned out to be a relief, as his previous balaclavas used to put a lot of pressure on his nose.

This balaclava was no different than the other ones he had. He had quite a few of them too. They were easily replaceable and came in packs of five. No reason to order one when you could order five so that you did not run out of balaclavas because they tore or wore out when on off hours.

He took a breath and decided to ditch the clothes. He did not need them. They were only going to be made worse anyways. Trying to wrangle them away from this buffoon would be a trivial task that would result in nothing but bullshit. He knew he would not win in any kind of fight with this man that did not involve his usual Spy stealth. At least, usual as in battlefield usual. Usual as in not every Spy and Sniper being on the same side and not being allowed to fight with each other.

Amazing how easily he had forgotten too that part of his ensemble was the default invis watch. A simple click of a button and he was invisible. The Sniper’s head whipped around, but Hugh was already out of sight. There was no telling where he was at, but the man seemed to relax as he realized that the Spy was not about to ditch him. He started to turn back to his rough scrubbing of the blue mask.

With the man sufficiently distracted, he carefully stepped to the door, cautious on his feet not to make a sound more than he had to. He carefully slipped his fingers into the handle. Thank the Lord it was a pull handle. Just a pull then a push and he was out.

He acted quickly, pulling the handle and pushing the door before making a mad dash. He did not even bother to make sure that the door closed. Given he was invisible, the Sniper would not be able to follow him. However, Hugh was smarter this time.

He knew for certain that the Sniper would expect him to go for the Spy building. He would pursue him there. While Hugh ducked aside behind one of the other trucks to drop his cloak, he watched the Sniper run off towards the Spy building, thinking he was pursuing an invisible Spy.

He snickered to himself in satisfaction. It was satisfying to see the man running around like an idiot, while he was in safety. Perhaps if he was gone long enough, he could simply go back for his things.

Uh oh. That was when he realized that he had dropped his cloak outside. He pressed the button on his invis watch and looked around. A panicking sensation filled his system as he looked for cameras.

There seemed to be no cameras, so he made his way back to the camper. He did not need the man to have an _excuse_ for visiting him. He paused, checking to make sure the Sniper was not coming back, before sneaking inside.

The faucet had been left partway on, with water dripping from its mouth. He shut it off out of irritation. Not that he cared about the wastefulness of the water, but that the sound annoyed him.

He snatched the balaclava out of the sink and quickly wrung out the bulk of the water. It was so soaked that he was certainly not going to get it dry any time soon. There was no way he was putting it back on his head in this condition. He decided to wash it, or otherwise throw it in the garbage. He tucked it into his pocket to worry about later.

He turned around and snatched up the jacket that had been discarded onto the couch. It still had syrup and egg on it, soaking into the fibers. He grimaced, hoping that a trip to a dry cleaner would help deal with this. Perhaps that would be the excuse that would get him to the city.

Footsteps caught his attention and he quickly clicked the invis watch. He held the jacket close to his person, not wanting to give himself away. The door opened and the Sniper came in, looking rather dejected.

He took off his sunglasses and set them on the counter. He ran his hands over his face, tiredly. He gave a loud sigh before turning to the sink. Upon seeing no balaclava and no running water, a look of panic struck him. His head whipped around to see that the jacket was no longer on the couch either.

With a grimace, the Sniper started towards the other side of the camper. Spy quickly dodged, flattening himself, while he tried not to fall onto the couch. The man went towards the bed, probably to get into his little cubby.

While he was distracted, Hugh slowly and carefully tip toed towards the door. He dared not let on that he was still in the camper. He definitely did not want to be barreled through, should the man decide to run across the camper again. Much to his dismay, the moment his hand touched the handle, the Sniper turned around with a rifle between both hands.

He felt terror as he yanked on the handle and threw the door open. The man’s head whipped up to look, but Hugh was already making a mad dash away from the camper again. He scrambled to keep his balance, while the Sniper came stumbling out behind him. He quickly hid behind a truck, waiting to see what would happen.

When the Sniper did not immediately go to the Spy building, he had himself a look around the trucks. There was a bit of spare metal laying around. Some of these Snipers were messy and careless. He picked some up, but if he was honest, he just stole it. He made do with getting his invis watch charged up so he could trot over to the Spy building.

He kept checking over his shoulder, afraid that the Sniper might come this way. He was afraid the man would eventually come here anyways. Either way, he just needed to get away from the Sniper area.

Once inside the Spy room, he was very much relieved. All of the Spies were already gone, probably off to get breakfast and go about their day’s work. What a fantastic start this day had, he thought. Only the morning and he was already goofing off dealing with some sort of mid school level bully situation.

He felt like a mess, like some sort of child. He was being pushed around so easily. He reminded himself of the man’s grip, and how he dragged him along so easily. A man like that was not a threat to take lightly. He was a force to be reckoned with eventually.

“Well, _you_ look like shit,” his head snapped up to look at Antoine coming out of the bathroom.

He felt irritated that he had been wrong about one Spy not being gone. At least, for now, it was just Antoine that had seen him. It was not as if the man had never seen his face before this.

“Not sure the style works,” Antoine gestured over his head, admiring the mess of Hugh’s hair.

“Hah,” Hugh switched to French, “How very funny.”

He walked over to his area to grab new clothes. He grabbed a balaclava first, pulling it over his head before anybody else could witness his shame. It was bad enough that the Sniper might have seen him. That obsessive man was going to be the death of him, and they had only just met the night before while he was out having a midnight smoke.

“Were you out playing with Snipers today?” Antoine had this teasing tone, like he was going to make a joke.

“No,” he replied, with as much of a disgruntled nature as he could put into one word.

Antoine backed off a bit, but still sounded a bit teasing, “A few others said they saw you going off with the RED Sniper from the Haunted Hills base. Man’s a nutcase, I don’t think most even associate with him. Even Snipers avoid him.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Hugh growled, as he pulled out one of his other suit jackets. He carefully put it on, smoothing down any wrinkles.

“It’s…nice if you’re making friends,” Antoine said, biting off the teasing tone, “I was mostly concerned.”

“You should be,” Hugh replied. He opened a small mirror as he pulled off his tie to put a new one on. “That man is a lunatic,” he said, quickly tying a new tie.

“Yea…” Antoine was hesitant this time.

“You do not agree?” Hugh inquired, eyeing him sideways.

“Well, it’s just that…never mind,” Antoine shook his head and waved off the topic, “It is unimportant.”

“No please,” he pressed, turning his attention back to the tie that was starting to irritate him, “Tell me. What were your thoughts on the encounter I experienced with that insane minotaur.”

“You have become more and more…irritable as of late,” Antoine explained hesitantly.

“So? Wouldn’t you?” he growled, giving Antoine a sideways glare.

“I would…but I am trying to make the best of things,” Antoine replied with an awkward smile.

“You don’t think I am trying to make the best of things?” Hugh countered a bit angrily.

“That’s not it at all,” Antoine insisted, raising his hands defensively, “I only mean to say that, I had hoped you might have found some friend in an awkward situation…as you seem to do.”

“What is the point of befriending a moronic lunatic?” Hugh replied, closing the mirror and putting it away.

“I don’t know,” Antoine shrugged, “You managed to get so attached that you dragged an entire team out of Mexico just to get your Soldier back?”

Hugh turned to glare directly at him, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m trying to say…” Antoine hesitated as he thought about his words, “What I am trying to tell you is that you were much happier with him around. Even with your Sniper friend, you were much happier. Now you are subpar passive aggressive at best.”

Hugh frowned at that analysis. He had been irritated for months now. There was no telling how long this lifestyle would go on. It was not like he could just get used to this. This was no way for him to live, anyhow.

For months he had told himself that this was only temporary. He had told himself that this would only be a little longer. It was not going to last forever. He just had to hang onto life a little longer.

“If you were to…say…make a new friend who made you happy, it would be much more pleasant for yourself and everybody else,” Antoine finalized what he had said.

“I’ll keep your words in mind, the next time I am being dragged off unwittingly by a hulking behemoth,” Hugh replied snidely.

“I didn’t mean it to-” Antoine was cut off by the sound of knocking on the door. He turned to look at the door, before giving Hugh a questioning look.

Hugh responded with a gesture towards the door. There was no way he was answering it. He had already attracted enough trouble, now he wanted out of it.

Antoine walked over and opened the door. From this angle, Hugh could not see who was on the other side, thankfully obscured from view by the door. He could already guess by the big Australian voice who it was.

“Where’s that two-faced jerkoff who snuck into my camper?” the man growled angrily.

While at first irritated by the Sniper’s presumptuous tone and etiquette, Hugh found Antoine’s reactionary expression humorous. He allowed himself a small huff of a chuckle. He decided to watch and see how Antoine would handle this.

“Excusez-moi?” Antoine replied.

“You heard me!” the Sniper retorted with a snort for emphasis.

Hugh had to suppress laughter, putting his gloved hand over his mouth. Apparently the Sniper was offended that he had gone back into his unlocked camper. As if the first time he had entered it wittingly.

Antoine gave him a glance, apparently bewildered as to how to handle this man. This behemoth of a lunatic was a little more than Antoine’s usual scope of dealing with people. None of _their_ teammates had ever been so daft.

“Tell that piker to stay out of my truck!” the Sniper yelled, poking Antoine’s chest with a finger.

Hugh almost lost it at that. Was he serious? He could handle that request no problem. He would just as soon lose both of his hands as go near that Sniper’s camper again.

“Oui, I shall tell him,” Antoine gave the Sniper a deadpan look, “And you would do well not to come here again.”

With that, Antoine shut the door, letting it slam of its own accord. He stepped away and turned to Hugh. He had the most irritated look on his face, and for some reason that made Hugh feel rather happy.

“Did you hear all of that clearly enough, or must I convey the message?” he asked, sarcastically.

Hugh waited to be sure he was hearing the footsteps walking away from the door. He had a grin on his face though, looking back at Antoine’s irritation with a giddy revival. “Oh no! You’ll have to repeat that! I’m not sure I got any of it! Besides, you assured him to some extent that you would make sure I got the message, right?”

Antoine rolled his eyes, “Let’s go.” He opened the door and stepped out, pausing to look back at Hugh.

Hugh felt a little jarred at the sudden change of what was going on. He hesitated as he sidled out into the hallway, “Where are we going?”

“To town,” Antoine replied, fishing out his car keys.

“Oh! Let me grab some things!” Hugh insisted.

“We’re not running errands,” Antoine protested.

“I just need to take some things to a dry cleaner,” he insisted.

“You realize that they have suits from just about every mercenary here in that dry cleaner?” Antoine replied, as Hugh started for the ruined jacket and balaclava.

“Merde,” he muttered to himself, laying the jacket over his arm, “Well…it’s a good thing I was otherwise going to throw these out!”

Antoine rolled his eyes and shook his head, “Can we go now?”

“Fine,” Hugh nodded in approval, taking the lead.

“This should help you get that awful freak out of your head,” Antoine teased him.

He shot a glare over his shoulder, finding Antoine’s humorous little smirk. What a damn devil. And to think the man was supposed to be on friendly terms with him now. At least they could stand each other, having worked together long enough before Mann Co was ever in their minds.

Before his mind could go far down that rabbit hole, his eye caught a familiar figure. He was being talked to by some other Snipers, so he was distracted, but Hugh could tell that it was that loon. In response, he began walking faster, silently urging Antoine to keep pace so that they could get out of sight of that creep.


	3. Town Next Door

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine and Hugh go for a ride to the nearest town. They have a little run in that lands them in a little trouble.

The car slid into town with a squeaky halt. It made Hugh wince, realizing that this was the breaks wearing down.

“Here we are,” Antoine put the car in park.

“Where are we? I got distracted by your unkempt breaks,” Hugh said, rubbing his ear.

“Oh shut up and take your dry cleaning in!” Antoine gestured in a _shoo_ motion of the hand.

“Fine I’m going,” Hugh chuckled as he gathered the jacket and balaclava and climbed out of the car.

He hesitated to take in the surrounding area cautiously. It was a precariously placed little dry cleaner, with nary an open store in the lots around it. There were buildings around it, but none of them were being used.

One building to the left looked like it used to be some sort of pizza parlor. An old menu covered in dirt and grime still advertised a meat lover’s specialty. A meat lover’s specialty pizza? That sounded like something absurd. Then again, American cooks, including Canadian cooks, did absurd things with foreign foods.

The building on the right just housed spiders on old shelves build into the back wall. It was an absurdly dirty looking thing with no place existing anymore. On the front was pasted a “for sale” sign with the realtor’s name, but he doubted anybody wanted the lot.

Then again, given the booming business that the dry cleaners must be having, it was a shock that other businesses were not having such luck. He turned his attention away from the empty buildings to the one that was occupied by coats on hangers.

He stepped inside to be greeted by a small man. He seemed unabashed at his arrival, but mistook him for a returning customer. After sorting things out regarding the _fake_ name and information regarding when his clothes would be finished.

The moment he stepped out of the cleaners, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Not far off was a camper truck. Sure there were a lot of camper trucks, and it was not as if he had studied any of them in particular. This was definitely familiar though, one that he did not intend to return to.

“Let’s get out of here,” he quickly climbed into the car, “Move!”

“I’ve been waiting on you!” the other Spy hastily started the car and peeled out, “You really should be more aware of the men you bed.”

Hugh grit his teeth as the car lurched forward, “Don’t you dare insinuate that I had any witting relations with that ape!”

He could see the quiet chuckling more than he could hear it. It irked him, and Antoine knew it. His own teeth began to gnash as he tried not to say anything more. No need to bury himself deeper in this.

“There are few reasons I can think of that he would be chasing you,” Antoine explained.

“I assure you, it’s none of the reasons you are thinking of. He is insane, obsessed even! Yous aid it yourself, that he is a lunatic from Haunted Hills,” Hugh replied sourly.

“You would think that even an obsessed man would be too busy doing his own errands to follow you,” Antoine remarked.

They simultaneously looked into the rear view mirrors. Hugh sighed in relief upon seeing that they were not being followed. They fell silent together though. It did not seem like Antoine had anymore quips, and Hugh did not have it in him to push for conversation.

Their trip ended in a thicker silence than it had been during the journey, as the car pulled to a stop. Hugh was not even sure what to do at first. Antoine was hesitating and he was not sure if he was meant to follow him out of the car here.

Finally, Antoine opened his door, “Let’s go drown ourselves in some beer. I’m parched.”

Hugh hesitated, “Are you paying?”

“Not for your drinks, no,” Antoine quickly got out and closed the door behind him.

Hugh felt a bit of disgust. Of course, he was being dragged out to drink and be expected to pay for drinks when he was being dragged to them. That was just how it was, wasn’t it? As Hugh got out of the car to follow him, he could hear Antoine laughing.

“What’s so funny?” he inquired.

“You make it as if I’m taking you out on a date!” Antoine laughed.

Hugh detected a hint of awkwardness in his voice. There was never a time before when this kind of situation came up between them. Back in the days of war, the two of them had been merely professional colleagues with no mention of backgrounds or preferences, or what have you. That was, aside from Antoine’s love life in America, the child he had to leave behind, and his desire to be a father.

Ah yes, that had been a fairly one-sided friendship in that regard, now that he thought about it. He never thought about it that way before, because it was normal not to talk about things. Some things were just kept under lock and key, never to be revealed by even the weakest of Spies. To Antoine, keeping secrets was part of the job. To Hugh, it was a lifestyle.

Now, after Antoine had discovered his recent love life, he was aware of Hugh’s _preference_. He knew that Hugh liked the sight of men, and had a certain type that he liked. From that discovery up until this point, Hugh had just assumed that Antoine went unbothered by it. Now he was thinking that this might not be the case and he might be hiding something.

“Too corny a joke, huh?” Antoine filled the gap of silence.

Maybe Hugh was thinking too deeply into it. Antoine just meant to make a weird joke about him being gay and possibly having attraction to his partner, turned enemy, turned partner again. In Hugh’s mind this was of course not the case. Antoine was attractive, but far from his type.

“Not enough muscle under that skin,” Hugh decided to tease in return.

Antoine was quick with the rebuff, “I forgot, your type is awkward brutes.”

Hugh bit his tongue, feeling a bit enraged at that bit. That was very shallow, and a low blow. None of the men he had been attracted to in the past were awkward brutes. Sure, his Soldier could be awkward, but he was no brute. Glenn on the other hand… well he was possibly both.

“That statement holds no water,” Hugh said as they entered the establishment.

“Yea sure,” Antoine chuckled as he approached the bar.

 

An hour or two of drinking led the two Spies to become a little careless with how loud they were laughing. Not that they had gotten that drunk. Hugh was the type who could certainly hold his liquor well. It felt good though, to be in trustworthy company where he could loosen up.

That ended abruptly when the doors opened to fill the bar with a few new patrons. Instead of locals, it was mercenaries. Both men emitted groans, seeing this as their fun being cut to its end.

“Shall we?” Antoine gestured to the door before downing his last glass.

“After you,” Hugh insisted, knowing how Antoine would respond.

“No please, I insist,” Antoine refuted.

“Very well,” Hugh downed his last drink and hurried towards the door.

He could already hear the bar keep asking for the pay for the drinks. A sly grin crossed his face as he heard the disgruntled Antoine thumb out some bills to pay, having realized Hugh’s ploy. It was a devilish thing to do, but a harmless prank nonetheless.

Much to his dismay, the doorway kept filling with men entering. Every time he tried to step out, somebody stepped in. He growled, standing and waiting as man after man filed into the bar. Demos, Snipers, Engineers and Soldiers alike filed into the bar, looking for a good time with some good beer. It was probably one of the few establishments that would tolerate their shenanigans, or at least Hugh figured as much.

He was finally sure that he could step out, and relieved himself of that beer smelling space. He fixed the lapels of his jacket, feeling slightly accomplished as he stepped out into the sunny daylight. He was feeling good, until he realized that a step more from the door was a tall lanky Sniper.

He looked up to meet the face with his gaze. With his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses, it was a little difficult to make out what he was thinking. The Sniper’s face was twitching. Whether it was in a snarl or in some other expression, he was not sure. It was possibly irritation though, as the man’s hands clenched and unclenched.

This was no chance meeting either. Having been distracted by the men passing by, Hugh did not pay attention to the many windows. He could have clearly seen the Sniper. That meant that the Sniper saw him in there, waiting for people to file into the bar. That meant that the Sniper stood here waiting for him to come out, specifically to have this run in with him.

He sidestepped the man and headed towards the red car. He spared a small glance over his shoulder and was relieved to see that the man did not follow. He hesitated though, as if he might change his mind. Eventually, he decided to proceed into the bar, leaving Hugh in peace.

He sighed and leaned against the passenger side door. He faced away from the car, not really wanting to look into the establishment. He was not sure what he would find in there. He was not sure he wanted to know what he would find. At best, it would just be an average scene of mercenaries laughing loudly over beers. At worst, a Sniper staring right at him, sipping a beer and looking very mean.

A shiver ran up his spine as he tried to push the thought away. He took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. This was just all in his head. The Sniper clearly got the message this time. He was probably still angry about him breaking into the camper, despite there being no locks and the Sniper’s treatment of the Spy’s person to begin with.

This was likely some big misunderstanding. He wondered if it was perhaps mistaken identity. Perhaps the Sniper thought he was some other Spy. Maybe they had met for a time and they got along fine, so that was why the Sniper thought he could put his hands on him.

He shook his head at that thought. It did not matter who the Sniper thought he was, he had told him off. That should have been enough for him to keep his hands to himself. The man crossed a thick black line when he put his hands on his balaclava, with intent of removing it from his head.

He felt his hands clench into fists as he thought about that. That moment of vulnerability felt so harsh and revolting. He wanted to spit in the man’s face for it. He wanted to make his eye bleed and screams emit from his throat.

He took another breath, trying to calm himself down. He was getting all worked up over a stupid Sniper. It was not even a good-looking Sniper either. He had a bad case of horse face. He looked like he barely took care of himself, given the unkempt state of his camper, the haphazardly wrinkled attire, and the way his skin looked like it had been stretched out to dry in the sun.

The man fit the standard of “tall” and he fit the label of “dark,” but he did not fit the ideal of handsome. At least, not for Hugh’s tastes anyways. The man certainly did not have the personality to get his attention either.

Snipers generally had to be patient in their work. While for some that crossed over as a personality trait, for others that did not translate over. For some Snipers, waiting on anything other than a kill was painful. From what he had seen already, this man was one of those impatient types.

Not to mention the disturbing thought that he might actually be mentally ill. Not that there was anything wrong with it, but he would rather not deal with a man who needed therapy. A man like that needed to go to therapy _before_ getting involved with anyone. He needed to seek help and get treatment for his problems before bringing somebody else into the mix of it.

He tried not to think about it too hard though. It would have only driven him back to thoughts about Andrew. He worried about the man enough as it was. His PTSD had been a growing problem last he had seen him, and it had been so long apart.

He wondered if Glenn was taking care of him. Would Glenn care that much? Would he give up on the Soldier? What would Andrew do if there was nobody there to take care of him?

All of the worry made him start pacing. The ground beneath his shoes clicked and he longed to go somewhere else. He did not care where, he just needed a distraction. He needed Antoine’s conversation to take his mind off of things like that.

That was when he realized that Antoine was nowhere to be seen. He should have come out of the establishment already. It was not as if there was a still a stream of patrons entering. The bar had just about reached its maximum for bodies, aside from the couple sitting around a truck and talking.

He looked at the windows, wondering if he had gotten caught up with paying. That was not possible as like himself the man was loaded with cash. A petty thing like making him buy both of their drinks should not have set him back at all. Hugh barely drank anything expensive anyways.

Within the windows, he could see a brawl happening. Some of the other patrons had turned in their seats to watch in amusement. Others just kept on with their conversations like nothing was happening. It might as well have been just another day at the bar.

He hoped to Heaven above that Antoine was not a part of that brawl. It was unlikely for the non-confrontational Spy to actually get directly involved. Though, he might be waiting for the brawl to end before sneaking to the door, so he would not get involved in any of the mishap.

Deciding to investigate, Hugh started towards the door. He lowered his body as he reached the window. He did not want to be easily seen. If he had to, he wanted to be able to get out of view.

He was shocked when he saw the tall Sniper and the RED Spy grappling. Close by a BLU Demo was hooting and hollering, already drunk and in a stupor. A couple of RED Demos were laughing and shouting things for the Sniper to do.

“What the hell?” he muttered, as he rushed in the door.

He charged for the two, finding that the Sniper had gotten his arm around Antoine’s neck. Using his height to his advantage, he locked the Spy under his arm. Neither of them even saw the blue clad Spy approaching them.

“The hell is this?” he spoke over the clamor.

Both men looked up but they did not let up in their grappling. Antoine looked very uncomfortable, like talking might just make his neck hurt. The Sniper just looked dumbfounded, like he had no idea what to say.

“Let go of him, you buffoon!” Hugh started towards the Sniper.

The Sniper pulled Antoine around, using him as a shield, a shield that was haphazardly stumbling half bent over. Antoine gave out a cry as he struggled with the grip on his neck. There was no getting the brute to release him though.

“Give him a swing to the noggin!” one of the Demos cried out with a laugh.

Hugh growled, and charged towards the Sniper again. This time, he went around behind him. He was not pulling out a knife, but this was a better vantage point. If he had to fight a Spy from behind, then he would have to let go of the other one.

By the time the Sniper had released Antoine, Hugh had already gotten a right hook into his ribs. It caused the Sniper to grunt. It also gave Hugh a much needed boost in his ego. Frustrated at the situation, he decided to charge again, this time aiming for the chin. Much to his surprise, the Sniper caught his hand, seeing the strike coming. He saw the next one come from his other hand. Somehow, this meant that both wrists were in the Sniper’s wrists and his forearms were crossed. The awkward situation left him without an upper hand to attack with.

The Demos had long since started to boo the newcomer. None of them liked the idea of _two_ Spies ganging up on the Sniper. Nobody liked being attacked by Spies. However, something told Hugh that Antoine was not the one who struck first.

“This man your fucking bloke or something?” the Sniper growled, lowering his face and voice.

Hugh took the opportunity to lurch forward. He rarely ever did this, but he had seen it done enough times with efficiency to make attackers fall back. With his forehead impacting with the Sniper’s nose, he found that it indeed caused the taller man to reel back. It also caused him to release his arms, so that he could retreat. Much to his dismay, it also caused him some dizziness and light-headedness.

“Come on,” Antoine took a hold of his arm and guided him towards the door.

“Fags,” somebody said loudly and dismissively.

“Get out! Go on! Run!” the Sniper called after him.

Hugh looked back and regretted it. The man’s face already had a stream of blood coming from his nose, which he clutched with a hand. He saw Hugh look back and seemed to see red from there.

“Get out of here, wankers! Go be fags together in some lot in France! Fuck off, pikers!” the man gestured angrily with his other hand.

Hugh tried to ignore it. It was just a bunch of nonsense being thrown at him out of anger. The man was just angry that he had not won the match.

“Are you alright?” Antoine asked, escorting him to the passenger side.

“I’ll be fine,” he sighed in response, as he lowered himself into the seat.

“Does it hurt?” Antoine had a teasing grin.

“My head needs ibuprofen,” Hugh groaned.

“I meant your ego,” Antoine closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side.

“Surprises me that nobody stepped in to stop it sooner,” Hugh said.

“The barkeep seemed unwilling to do anything,” Antoine answered, checking his face in the rearview mirror, “The rest wanted to see me die.”

Hugh chuckled, “Quite the trophy color you have growing there.”

Antoine shook his head and settled into his seat, “Let’s just get going. My buzz has been killed.”

“Are you okay to drive?” Hugh asked.

“Sure,” Antoine shrugged dismissively.

Hugh looked back at the bar. Through the window he could see a few men comforting the Sniper by offering him a round of beers. They gave him pats on the back and seemed like they were just going to accept him as one of theirs.

“How did that even start, anyways?” he asked, as Antoine started the car.

“I barely know,” Antoine replied, pausing to stare at the ignition, “He was quite…genuine. When he first approached me, it was like a different person.”

“I highly doubt that,” Hugh protested.

Antoine shot him a glance, “He had this genuine act though. He was concerned about you. He thought that we were together, wished us well, and asked me to be good to you.”

Hugh cringed inwardly, “And how did that turn?”

“I told him I was not interested in you, that I have no attraction, but he cut me off with a swing,” Antoine explained, gesturing to his eye.

Hugh winced, “I’m sorry about that.”

Antoine gave him an incredulous look, “Don’t be. He’s a lunatic.”

“Glad you’re finally on _my_ side,” Hugh grumbled.

“I always was on your side,” Antoine replied, “I was just having a bit of fun.”

“Next time you decide to have a bit of _fun_ , maybe think about the impact it has,” Hugh replied tartly. He folded his arms over his chest, feeling quite frustrated at the other man.

“Well,” Antoine pulled out of the parking lot, “It seems that the man has company of others. Perhaps he will start leaving you alone.”

“A nice sentiment,” Hugh replied, holding back his tone of doubt.

If there was anything he had come to understand, it was that obsession had no limitations. Obsession could go to such lengths that could drive men insane. Though, he considered obsession itself to be a mental sickness, he understood that it was not something he could dismiss. This Sniper was a man to be trifled with, and the likelihood that a man so diligently intent on him would stop was far from existent.

He fell silent as they drove back from town. They did have some paperwork to do, after all. They did not get to live at that building with all of those other mercenaries in their space for free. They had to work for all of the little bit of trash they had. Forget contractual obligation too, as none of them wanted to be reminded that they were owned by the company itself. They were less than pawns, they were mere slaves. Even worse, they were slaves trusted only with remedial work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are enjoying this story so far.  
> Feel free to leave a comment!


	4. Can’t Sleep; Sleeping Too Much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh is having trouble with his sleep rhythm. He has a lot on his mind.

Hugh laid in bed trying not to think about the day. He tried to fill his mind with something stupid. Maybe something from those papers he filled out could dull his mind. Still, the night just seemed to drag on without him being able to sink into sleep.

With a reluctant sigh he pulled himself out of bed. He reached over to grab his disguise kit and pulled out the cigarettes. Oh lovely, he would have to go out into the cold to stay away from the other Spies while smoking.

He got up and pulled out a pair of slacks. Seeing as everybody was asleep, he just got into the slacks there and headed out the door. He would not wander off, not this time. This time, he would just stay in the hallway.

He lit a cigarette and leaned against the wall opposing the door. He rested there, eyes closed and breath soaking in the ashy taste of the smoke. He puffed on it with a needful breath and then let it out his nose and mouth without care. It was just as ashy as ever, but the familiar scent with the release of nicotine brought him relief.

Oh the unleashed passion of the cigarette brought him such delight. He closed his eyes and soaked in the warmth of the death stick. He ignored the encroaching cold that otherwise stayed out of the bunk room. It was making his fingers stiff and his body sore.

He would not have noticed the figure approaching, if not for the way the soles of his boots clicked against the concrete floor. He bristled, turning towards the approaching stranger. The realization that he had no weapon was a severe problem.

The figure was still approaching, coming closer and closer. He did not have to look at him too hard to realize who he was. He did not _want_ to look at him too hard. He wanted to escape from this cretin as well.

He threw the cigarette down on the ground, abandoning it. No amount of relieving nicotine was worth this man’s attention. Why he was here was beyond him, but he had to get away. Granted, he would know where Hugh went, but there was nowhere else to go.

He slipped into the room and locked the door behind him. He only hoped the Sniper did not decide to knock and wake the rest of the Spies. How embarrassing that would be.

He waited in silence, back pressed against the door as he waited for the possible knocks. He listened intently, waiting to hear something. Anything would have helped him, to identify how close the Sniper was, or if he had left.

As his ears adjusted, the breathing of every man in the room became intense. The severity of it made his hackles rise. He turned his head as he listened. He pressed his ear to the door and closed his eyes.

Terror struck his heart as he listened to the naturally heavy breathing of the man outside. He was so close to the door. He was standing so close to it, and he was not leaving. It was as if he knew that the Spy was standing just inside. It felt like he could feel the body heat through the door, and he just knew that he was there, pressed against the door and listening.

He held his breath, afraid that he might be giving himself away. It was too terribly quiet. The air was too empty of noise for him to breathe, so he waited in utter silence, forbidding himself breath, as if he were hiding beneath a table from a German forces informant. He closed his eyes, pretending instead that he was back in Belgium, hiding in a rendezvous, waiting for word from somebody. He tried to remember what it felt like and smelled like, as being in a memory, he had control to change that memory, so that he had the upper hand in the situation.

A loud sigh came from the other side. He tried to imagine that it was Antoine, waiting in the corner gasping for air. The younger Spy was not always the best for such situations. Sure they reasonably would have been caught if Antoine had actually done that, but for the sake of the memory, he remembered the informant walking away, noticing nothing out of place. The two of them waited and listened, hoping to hear the footsteps of the man walking away down the hallway.

A brush of a hand moving along wood caused his hackles to rise. He reasoned it out as the informant making a pause. He had noticed something amiss and was curious. Deft hands swept over the wood of a small corner table, looking at the picture left behind by a deceased colonel who betrayed German forces.

He swallowed, feeling the dry depths of his throat. It was sore. The ash had left it feeling burnt out without any water or other liquids to soften it. He dared not try anything else though. He attempted to swallow spit, trying his best not to make a sound as he worked his tongue to salivate in a desert-like mouth.

The soft growl of a man was like a beast on the other side of the table. There was not a beast in the memory, but there certainly could have been. Plenty of big dogs were used by the forces. They used them for sniffing out things. They often found out secrets and discovered the whereabouts of traitors and those hiding from the train to a camp.

Yes a dog, that was what it was. That was all he had to deal with. He knew how to deal with dogs. He just had to make sure the dog scented him as nothing out of the ordinary. That was…not actually easy to do with a dog.

With that, his memory started falling apart. The fantasy of it destroyed its authenticity and reality started to take a hold of him. Perhaps that would have been more of a relief to somebody. Perhaps it should be a good thing that he was pulling out of remembering a war he was a part of. For most men, those memories were haunting and trouble. For Hugh, they were a part of his arsenal of skills for survival in this world.

A clip of a boot brought his attention back to the Sniper. The memory of the Sniper hit him and he felt so disgusting. He detested the sensation of entrapment. Being stalked like this was like being a small animal. He was not a small animal, no matter the kind of beast that the Sniper was.

The only way to show another man that he was not a small animal to be hunted was to confront him about it. He reached for the handle, but he froze. He questioned the feeling, wondering why he could not just open the door. The scenario ran through his head though, playing exactly what would happen in any given situation in which he confronted the Sniper.

Death was a great possibility. The man had already shown that he was prone to violence and anger. He had the capacity to do it too. Given how easily he dragged Hugh across a food court and out to his camper, the man was more physically capable than most were to kill Hugh in an instant. It was likely he was carrying some form of weapon too, given he was an experienced mercenary.

Perhaps the violence would not end in death. Perhaps he would just be maimed. That would actually be worse. With death, he would be sent through the Global Respawn. He had yet to use that respawn, he just knew that it existed from speaking with Antoine and Miss Pauling. But maiming, he would be stuck like that until he could see a Medic or get himself killed. If anybody heard him, they would come to see him being dominated by some Sniper.

The gentler part was that the man just took advantage of the situation in a different way. That was not something Hugh wanted to think about. He shuddered that his mind even went there. That was no way to think about things. Besides, whatever the Sniper wanted, it could not have been sexual in any way.

Predators of the sexual kind were not unfamiliar in this territory. Sure, most men amongst mercenaries were heterosexual. Yet, men like Hugh, who only craved the attentions of other men, existed in this hovel of hell.

He closed his eyes and tried to think of the one man he could reach out to in this desolate zone of death. In his team he used to work with was a Soldier named Andrew. He worried about him every day, wishing he could see the man again, if only just to kiss his cheek and tell him how much he loved him.

They could not see each other, let alone find each other. Even seeking him out would be a threat to their safety. If Mann Co found out he had been doing any kind of research into the _rebels_ he would be investigated without being informed of it. And if they caught wind of where rebels like Andrew were? They would be the immediate targets.

And what was more was his best friend. The one Sniper he had ever trusted to talk to was Glenn. He wished he could see that Sniper too, though for different reasons. They had been best friends, but they had not seen each other in about two years. How time made the heart grown lonesome and weary.

Footsteps started to drag away from the door. Boots clipped along the floor, moving away from the entrance and out towards the Snipers’ campers. Relief struck his heart and he wanted to celebrate inwardly. He only permitted that for himself for a very brief time.

 

He jolted awake in a cold sweat. His shirt clung to his chest as he sat up. He took a few deep breaths, trying to help the lingering fear subside. He had no recollection of what he had been dreaming of, only the understanding that it had been a nightmare.

He rubbed his face, finding that his balaclava was soaked in sweat too. So much for nightwear being easily reusable. He got some spare clothes out and headed for the showers.

He was somehow shocked to find the stalls all empty and the showers off. Everything was dead silent, leaving him alone to his thoughts. That was not what worried him though.

He stepped out into the main room again, looking at the beds. They were all empty. Each bed was made or otherwise had the blankets thrown over the mattress. There was not a soul in the room, save for himself.

“Where…?” his soft word hit the air but it barely escaped beyond a three foot radius.

He walked to the door, almost too terrified to open it. He would just as soon wait there for whatever was to come. The lingering sensation of a nightmare took hold and paranoia caused him to backpedal.

He was about to head to the showers to prepare for a long time spent hiding in here, when the door suddenly opened. He was surprised and flinched, but refused to be so startled that he jumped. He was immediately relieved to see that it was Antoine. He was not looking at Hugh though, he was looking at somebody over his shoulder, a Spy standing in the hallway.

“I just need to grab my keys…” Antoine was saying when he turned his head. He looked at Hugh and blinked, giving him the most incredulously confused look. “Are you _still_ not dressed?”

“What?” Hugh froze, trying to take in everything at once. Primarily, he was trying to remember why he had been suddenly terrified.

“You were the last person to get up,” Antoine said, “In fact, I don’t remember seeing you wake up at all. We’ve been awake for hours. I just got back from paperwork. Have you…been asleep that entire time?”

“What? No!” he denied, “What time is it?”

“It’s half past noon,” Antoine answered.

Hugh suppressed a growl as he realized just how long he had been asleep. He rubbed his head, wishing away the feeling like he had barely slept. He had slept for so long. Surely he should have been more awake by now.

“Are you sick?” Antoine asked, “I could get a Medic to come.”

“No, I’m fine,” he refused the offer, “I’m alright. I’m not sick.”

Antoine hesitated, giving him a concerned look. That expression was wary, like a father watching out for his own. Being older than him, Hugh felt a little miffed at the insinuation that he needed to be cared for like a child.

“I’m fine!” he gestured dismissively, “I simply lost track of the time.”

Antoine frowned at him. It was that frown that said he was not buying the lie. Still, Hugh decided to sell it further by insisting it was the truth. He shrugged off Antoine’s concern and headed to the bathroom.

“You’re not going to stay in here all day, are you?” Antoine asked, following him partway. Oh, how Hugh hated not being left with his privacy. “It is unhealthy to just stay in here and mope alone.”

“Yea, I’ll go out,” Hugh shrugged, trying to ignore Antoine’s presence for the moment.

“And? What are you going to do?” Antoine pressed.

Hugh frowned, “I’ll do what I want. Stop pestering me.”

“As long as you don’t stay in here all day,” Antoine insisted.

“I won’t!” Hugh barked.

“Good,” Antoine pushed off of the wall, “You should not hide out from some lone Sniper.”

“What?” Hugh slipped into one of the stalls to garter himself some privacy.

“You heard me,” Antoine quipped.

Hugh pulled off his mask and turned to the mirror on the wall. God he looked terrible. His eyes had dark circles around his eyes and his skin was terribly pale. He had certainly looked better in the past, if not his best. It could not all be blamed on the mask. Granted, he could probably blame today’s look on a long overdrawn out amount of sleep.

“So anyways,” Antoine continued talking, “I recently spoke with the lamb. I did not want to mention it before because of…the Sniper thing we were dealing with.”

“You’ve talked to her?” Hugh paused, turning to look at the door, as if he could see Antoine through it.

Lamb was their little code name for Melisa, Glenn’s girlfriend. Glenn did not know about any of this. Glenn did not even know that Melisa was in Canada. It was for the best, as Mann Co would bring harm to her and her child if they figured out where the Spies managed to hide her.

“She is doing well,” Antoine cut into his thoughts, “The child is developing well enough. The ranch is working well, and she is in a safer mindset. You remember that conversation.”

Hugh turned back to the mirror. Ah yes. Melisa being ripped from her life of being Glenn’s secondary life and brought to Canada was very stressful for her. Her child probably did not even know what was going on though.

Given the change for Melisa though, the woman had gone through a troubling time. She would not admit it, being as mentally powerful as her boyfriend, but it was evident that the woman was cracking in her sanity. The holes were slowly starting to show, and it was troubling them for a while. Of course, during that time she was on Mann Co property, where the goons of Grey Mann could keep an eye on her.

Now with the woman off at the ranch it was easy to forget about that responsibility. She may be a grown adult who could take care of herself and her child, she was a grown adult on the run. As the lamb that Mann Co would like the butcher, Antoine and Hugh had both been keeping her hidden secretly. A personnel member had questioned them both about her whereabouts when she vanished, but both claimed not to know anything about her disappearance.

“So, her little disappearance is working,” he turned on the faucet on a low level, filling his cupped hands to wet his face.

“Exactly,” Antoine agreed.

“Good,” Hugh breathed a sigh of relief at the cold water that he splashed on his face. He felt just a little more awake from that. “Maybe we can worry just a little less about that and focus on more important matters.”

“More important matters?” Antoine sounded inquisitive, “You sound like you have something on your mind. Months of planning too, I suppose?”

“What kind of Spy would I be if I said no?” Hugh asked.

“Go on then,” Antoine pressed.

“Is it not clear to you?” Hugh asked, wiping the excess water from his face with his hands.

“Perhaps not,” Antoine replied, not the least bit dissuaded.

Hugh sighed and closed his eyes. He thought long and hard about what had been troubling him for months. His friends and loved ones danced on the edges of his memories. It was as if they did not actually exist anymore, living on only in his memories. He knew this was not true, but it was hard to feel like he could find them in his life again.

There is nothing he would not do to have those loved ones back in his life. Antoine was a man with his own life, having changed since their time working together in Europe. Melisa was a woman trying to cope with being a single mother in a foreign country. Neither of them were truly Hugh’s friends, even if he _could_ trust them.

He wanted his old best friend back. He wanted to go out to Glenn’s camper at night to stare at the stars with him in silence. He wanted to banter about nonsensical things, and listen to the man yammer on about his passions. He wanted to tell him about where they tucked his girlfriend away in the rural areas of Toronto.

He wanted to see Andrew again. He wanted to see his smile and touch his face. He wanted to feel his too-tight-to-breathe hug. He longed to remember what it felt like to be loved and wanted. He wanted to remember that real feeling of being as important to somebody as they were to him.

He turned to the door and pulled on his balaclava. It was time to actually get dressed for the day. It was time to stop moping and start making changes. It was time to get out of Mann Co once and for all. No more sitting around here listening to stupid contracts and bullshit. It was time to be a real Spy and make use of his position here at this company’s underbelly.

He pushed open the door, just as the main door to the bunk room opened. Antoine turned as he heard the door, signifying that it was definitely what Hugh thought it was. He said nothing, letting the door swing shut behind himself. It was no time to talk about this, if there were others around.

“Let me deal with the rest of my day,” Hugh tapped Antoine’s shoulder in passing, as he headed towards his trunk by his bed, “We’ll talk later.”

“You’re not sick, are you?” one of the other Spies asked.

“No,” Hugh replied in short. He did not make eye contact, wanting to avoid further conversation. Conversations with men like these were merely investigations that could lead down a terrible path.

“Just wondering,” the man explained, hesitantly.

“Don’t worry so much about it, Maurice,” another Spy said dismissively.

The one called Maurice growled softly under his breath in Italian. Hugh did not know Italian. Then again, he did not give enough shits about what the man was complaining about to want to know what he was saying. It would be more likely that he would want to tune it out if he _did_ understand it.

“We _will_ talk later,” Antoine said to Hugh in passing.

Hugh did not respond, simply returning to the showers to get dressed. He had his mind set on shaving the stubble he saw on his jaw. Not that anybody would see it. It was just to make himself feel better.


	5. Nightmare on Memory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nightmare plagues the Spy's mind. Those who have read the They are Called Family series may remember where this comes from. If you have not read it, here is some insight into the character.

_Hugh looked at the contract in his hand. The words became a meaningless blur as he tried to read them. This seemed like something that he should be talking about with Andrew. A contract with Gray Mann to decide his future yet again. The difference was that his future was supposed to be different now._

_The man had some mental health problems, but that did not make him stupid. On the contrary, that seemed like even more reason to talk about this with him. And if Hugh signed away his life, he was expecting his lover to do the same. He was expecting him to accept this decision for the both of them in that respect._

_“Do you_ still _have hang ups about the contracts?” Gray asked, irritably._

_“A few minor details,” Antoine said, flipping through the pages. He did not seem to be having any issue looking over the contract. “I would like to rediscuss a few things. Perhaps a more temporary contract until these can be ironed out?”_

_Hugh liked the suggestion. A temporary contract was a good idea. He had one of those a while back, when he was waiting to get Andrew back. Now Andrew was back in his life and he was much happier for it._

_“Some of us have people to discuss this with before making the decision,” Hugh waved the contract at Gray. He was ready to stand for a fight before signing his lover’s life away._

_Gray looked at the others to see if they agreed. Then, he looked at the monitor screen. He had this haughty look, like he was ready to order for another mercenary to be killed off. Most of the controllers monitoring the screens were partway turned, wanting to see what came out of this dramatic meeting._

_Antoine finally nodded, “This changes their lives too.”_

_Pauling’s expression started falling apart. She looked like she might crumble under all of this immense pressure. It was hard to watch, while wanting to reach out and catch the poor girl. Nobody wanted to see her fall into this alone, to be contracted and watch everybody else take a fall._

_“If you don’t sign,” Gray pointed at Hugh’s contract, then tapped the screen of a monitor, “Well…you don’t really have a choice, do you?”_

_Hugh looked to the screen, realizing who he was putting in danger by refusing. His hands tightened on the paper, while his heart pounded harder in his chest. He could not refuse and put them at risk. This was not signing away his lover’s life as a choice, this was sign his life to Mann Co or watch his lover die._

_“I’ll sign it,” the Spy disguised as the Engineer grabbed his contract, put it on his bent knee and smacked it into the briefcase that Hale was still holding. He turned to Gray, “I have no hang ups, but I will tell you this: you’ve messed with the wrong mercenaries.”_

_Gray said nothing in response, he just looked over at Miss Pauling. She was visibly relieved as she turned to the man disguised as an Engineeer. She was at least not alone, even if he did not seem to intend for this to be for her._

_“You’re not even going to give us a chance to talk to the others?” Antoine spoke up._

_“You either sign it…” Gray’s thumb played with the hammer of his pistol, “Or you don’t. It’s that simple. Easy really. Isn’t it? Hale thought it was. Not so easy on the uptake, but…”_

_Everybody turned to Hale who sunk in on himself. For the first time, a little bit of humiliation revealed that Gray had done something. Whatever Hale was doing now, it was not what he wanted to be doing. There was a slight look of distress though, as the man who usually showed fear to nothing and nobody looked like he was going to throw up. Whatever Gray had on him, it had to be worse than average blackmail._

_Hugh strode back into the room they were in previously and signed the contract. He went through each page, noting that each thing had to be revisited later. All of this would be revisited later._

_He kept his focus on what was important. Priorities_ had _to come first. He had to focus on the fact that he was going to see Andrew soon, and Andrew would be fine. He could not focus on the half sized man in the room, shriveling up under the pressure of whatever blackmail Gray Mann had on him._

_“You’re not going to even wait for temporary contracts?” the tall hose-like woman spoke in a near-gibberish accent that he barely understood._

_“What choice do you have?” Gray asked._

_Hugh returned to the monitor room to put his contract into the bubblegum pink briefcase, “Done.”_

_Gray turned to the female Spy with a shit eating grin, “And you, my dear?”_

_“Me? I haven’t breached anything,” the woman guffawed. She looked like she thought herself high and mighty._

_“What?” Antoine looked surprised at the woman._

_“As surprising as that may seem to_ you _, I actually have kept a good rep in my sector,” the woman explained, “My place is with my team…violent or not.”_

_“Very well. That works out,” Gray nodded. He looked like an eager carnivore staring at meats over flames as the others signed their contracts and put them in the briefcase._

_“Very good,” Gray said, rubbing his palms together._

_“About revisiting those details-” Miss Pauling started, but she was cut off by a wave of Gray’s hand._

_“We’ll come to that in three years’ time,” he told her, sternly._

_“Three years?” the Spy disguised as the purple balloonicorn exclaimed with disbelief in his voice._

_“Are you dense? Did you not read?” the one disguised as the Demoman exclaimed._

_“Did you? We barely have time for it!” the one disguised as the Engineer argued._

_Hugh would not admit it, but he barely had a chance to read over the pristine details. Even when he had tried, it just amounted to meaningless nothing. All of it meant nothing. Gray Mann was a man of intense attention to detail. He had filled those contracts from front to back with such an immense number of details that it was impossible to see them all in a first pass. He would have to sit down and study that contract before its end._

_He took a deep breath, “The others will be wondering where we’ve-”_

_“Sir! They’ve started a coup!” one of the people monitoring the Scoutbots exclaimed._

_“They’ve gotten their hands on weapons, sir!” a pink and blue antelope announced from a chair at one of the monitors._

_“They had weapons before!” Gray argued, with frustration. He turned to the monitors to see that the fray of panic had turned into a fire fight._

_Hugh raised his gaze. The monitors grew hazy, then became distorted. He could not focus on them well. The feeling of panic filled him as he stared at the distorting monitors._

_“Nearly half of our Scoutbots are down sir,” a woman announced loudly._

_“Nearly half?!” Gray exclaimed angrily. His hands clenched in anger, and his face grew red._

_“We’re losing control!” another man added, extremely focused on the Scoutbots now._

_“Sir, they are overrunning the Scoutbots!” another person began to panic, “Shall we return fire?”_

_Hugh was feeling quite relieved. Smug even. He was not involved in actually bringing any of these down, but there was a good feeling there, as if he were a part of it. He could not help but smile smugly, knowing that his friends were behind all of this. Andrew was most certainly a part of that fight._

_Gray paused, looking from the Spies and Pauling to the monitor, “Use the necessary force.”_

_“Sir?” a young man pressed for clarification._

_“Open fire, if absolutely necessary,” Gray added._

_“Open fire, if absolutely necessarily,” this became echoed through the monitor room as they started having the Scoutbots fight._

_“Noo!” Hugh shouted in desperation, “No! You can’t do that! You can’t! You promised you wouldn’t!”_

_The world around him changed. It was dark and cold. The eerie looming dark trees stood beyond the lights on the street. Some vehicles lined the road going down the slope. Before him stood a hulking Scoutbot._

_He had just signed the contract. He had signed away his life. This was what he had been trying to avoid. This was the reason he had accepted Gray’s terms._

_“I did not properly promise not to protect my interests,” Gray argued, as he made his way out the door, “And you would do well to protect my interests too. I would get down there if I were you. Calm down your troops, Miss Pauling.”_

_As he spoke, the Scoutbot seemed to loom closer and closer. The hulking monster moved closer and closer. Hugh could not take it anymore. He turned and ran, reaching for his wrist to turn on his invis or the cloak and dagger. To his dismay, there was nothing on his wrist._

_“No!” he tried to pick up the pace._

_“We have to stop the fighting!” the Spy named Maurizio appeared, running alongside Hugh._

_“What?” the Spy still disguised as Demoman looked utterly surprised, as he tried to keep up on Maurizio’s other side._

_“We don’t have much time,” Antoine stated firmly, appearing on Hugh’s other side._

_“Run! Run, run!” Miss Pauling cried out in desperate panic._

_They all ran as fast as they could. Much to Hugh’s dismay, it was not fast enough. His lungs began to betray him and he was sent into a fit of coughing._

_“Keep up old man!” he heard Scout calling to him, but he did not see Scout. In fact, as his head started spinning, he could not see much anymore._

_He closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing. He had to keep his feet moving, but he could not do that if he did not have enough air in his lungs._

_Amidst the daze, thoughts of the Soldier popped up in his mind. He had to be okay. Andrew had to be among the ones living._

_“Almost there!” Pauling panted, appearing within his peripheral vision._

_“We’re keeping up, we’re keeping up!” the balloonicorn huffed._

_“I’ve never regretted a lifestyle choice as much as I do right now,” he heard Antoine mutter just to the left of him._

_They were not worried about Snipers or cameras this time. This time they were in too much of a hurry to care. Hugh could not even stop to think about why they were hurrying, because they were in too big of a hurry._

_“Dammit! Why couldn’t Gray be patient?” the balloonicorn hissed._

_“God dammit,” Pauling panted, “God dammit!”_

_Hugh looked upon a battlefield made of a street and littered with robot parts. All the Scoutbots were downed and some pulled apart. A giant Heavybot was even sitting there, slumped over in its useless state._

_Two vehicles were missing, and the rest were useless in the states that they were in. Aside from a few corpses and some blood, there were no other signs of humans._

_He looked around, searching for clues for what happened. There were no evident signs of Andrew though. An arm of a Demoman laid in the middle of the street. The executed Engineer still lay where he had been shot. A Medic laid face down in a puddle of blood, his arm pulled out of its socket. Blood dyed the street itself, covering the black pavement with a crimson hue._

_A few people had died here, but there was no definitive answer as to whether Andrew was alive. There was nothing to hint that Glen was even there either. There was not even a sniper rifle in sight. He could have guessed that the man drove the camper, but that was just based on assumption. The keys had been left in the vehicles, as everybody had been in too much of a hurry to worry about somebody stealing their vehicles._

_“They’re gone,” Pauling said, breathily. She dropped down next to the downed Medic, laying a hand on his head. She almost seemed like she was praying for him._

_“They’ve all gone,” the balloonicorn was laughing._

_“What are you so giddy about?” Bleu asked, tartly._

_“They got away!” the balloonicorn laughed. A chorus of children’s voices joined the balloonicorn in laughter._

_Hugh could not think straight, let alone speak. He was speechless as to what to do. Every usable vehicle had left. What remained were simply evidence of deaths and a battle here._

_“Don’t you see?” the children laughed, “We’re the ones who got fucked. They started a riot, had a blast and got out of dodge!”_

_“They’ve…they’ve left,” Hugh finally breathed, “Andrew’s still alive.”_

_“No,” Miss Pauling argued, “No he’s not.”_

_“What do you mean he’s not?” Hugh frowned at her. He reached into a pocket for a cigarette, only to pull out a stick of cinnamon. He figured this would do and lit it up._

_“He’s dead,” Pauling stated firmly, “He is dead and there is nothing you can do about it.”_

_“There is_ no _evidence that a Soldier died here!” Hugh protested, “There has to be a greater chance that he survived!”_

_A hand landed upon his shoulder, “I’m sorry.”_

_He looked to see his old friend, Antoine, standing next to him. The man looked solemn and somber. His mask had been removed to show youthfulness beneath the red balaclava. His hair was even nicely combed back._

_“No!” he shook Antoine’s hand off. He turned to the man and gave his shoudlers a shake. “He can’t be dead!” he insisted desperately._

_“He has to be,” Antoine replied calmly._

_“No he doesn’t!” Hugh hissed._

_“He’s not trying to hurt you,” Pauling insisted, walking up to Hugh, “He’s just trying to be realistic.”_

_“They’re all dead,” the balloonicorn laughed._

_“Some of them are,” Hugh admitted, “But the rest got away!”_

_“Who got away?” Antoine challenged._

_Hugh looked around desperately. Had there been more vehicles than this? He was sure that perhaps there had been more vehicles here than were present. He decided to go with that._

_“At least three vehicles are gone!” he proclaimed._

_“Two,” Pauling shook her head, “That is not enough for all of them.”_

_Antoine sighed as he kicked at the stray hand laying on the ground, “Poor Demoman.”_

_“No!” Hugh barked, “I-I…I…I’m sure he’s alive! I_ know _he is alive!”_

_“If they headed up the road, they could have found their way out to the freeway,” Antoine suggested, “If we hurry we can-”_

_“Are you suggesting we catch up to them?” Pauling asked, suddenly turning to him._

_“You will lead trouble right to them,” the balloonicorn taunted. A chorus of childish giggling followed its words._

_“They got away,” Hugh pulled out a cigarette and lit it in desperation._

_Pauling spoke up again, “We’re contracted with Gray now. If we chase after them, Gray is chasing them. If we catch up to them, then Gray has caught them.”_

_“What Gray doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Antoine replied sternly._

_“It’s never so simple,” the chorus of children interrupted their discussion, giggling through its words._

_“It…it is never so simple,” Hugh stared down the road._

_Wherever the other mercenaries had gone, Andrew was with them. He was certain that the man was alive and well. Perhaps he was injured, but surely he had escaped. Hugh would not believe that the Soldier he used to work with would go down so easily in such a small fight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This nightmare was inspired by a scene from Love Extensions. It is not accurate though, as the memory is altered by the mind in this dream. Hope you enjoy a look at this character's struggle.


	6. Waking Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh woke from a horrifying dream, only to find that reality is not that much better.

Cold sweaty palms gripped the sheets. When the darkness escaped and his eyes opened, he realized where he was. The sensation of a cold mattress beneath him let him be aware of the night’s trivial dream. The memories had become a nightmare.

He sat up and rubbed his head, feeling drowsy. When he looked around the room, he found that the beds were once again emptied. He was the last Spy out of bed.

He huffed a sigh and swung his legs off of the edge. His pajamas were sticking to his skin. His legs felt a little hindered by this. His chest felt like it was covered in something thick that wanted to push on his lungs.

He grabbed an outfit and hastened to the bathroom to change. He did not bother to look in a mirror this time. He did not need to know how terrible he looked after the nightmare.

This could not be happening to him. He had not had nightmares before. This experience was already proving annoying.

What was more troubling was that while the nightmares came from memories, he did not understand why they were just now popping up. He had felt secure up to this point. Yet, as he thought on the nightmare and the implications of the words, the trouble started to sink into his mind.

He remembered that night well enough. Some things were fuzzy though, as any memory would become imperfect. What if he just missed Andrew’s body? What if more dead had been thrown into the brush beyond the trees? What if Andrew had been beaten to a pulp there in the street?

He tried to think back to that night to remember what it looked like. He could not be entirely sure what he saw anymore. _Was_ the street coated in blood? Had any of the vehicles gotten away?

He pushed those thoughts aside. He could not deal with those thoughts, he had to be pressing forward. He had to continue with the certainty that Andrew had escaped and was alive. His Soldier was alive and well. That much he had to be sure of.

He took a deep breath as he headed for the door. When he opened it, he was expecting the hallway to be empty. He was not expecting to run right into a taller man, with a hand raised to knock on the door. Who would knock on the Spies’ door?

Dread struck him before he raised his eyes. Looking up merely confirmed what he had feared. He stared at the surprised face of the Sniper with an awkward mix of surprise and a sneer.

“Get out of the way,” he demanded blandly.

“I was wondering,” the Sniper stepped aside, the hand meant to knock going to the back of his neck.

“Not a good idea,” the Spy jeered, as he started down the hallway. He could already hear the Sniper’s footsteps following him.

“Well, I was hoping we could start over,” the Sniper said, a bit pleadingly.

“No,” Hugh shut him down. He would have nothing to do with this crazy man.

“I just feel like…we got off on the wrong foot here,” the Sniper pleaded, following him out to a parking lot.

He could only hope that he would find Antoine’s car out here somewhere. He was not sure why he thought Antoine might be out here. He just needed _some_ escape from the madman.

“You’ve not really given me a chance,” the Sniper said, with a slight whine in his tone.

“A chance to what?” Hugh chuffed irritably.

“Well, we don’t know each other,” the Sniper explained slowly, “It would be a chance to get to know each other.”

“I know more than I want to,” Hugh growled, “Your files have said enough.” It was a bluff, given he had yet to see any actual files on this man. That did not mean he could not get his hands on them today to learn about him.

The Sniper got a crooked grin on his lips, “You researched me.”

Hugh moaned in irritation. That was usually something that put people off. It usually meant people knew things about them that they did not want others to know about.

“I’m rather flattered, mate,” the smile was apparent in the man’s tone, “It’s not particularly special, but it’s something.”

“Whatever,” Hugh rolled his eyes, making sure the Sniper heard his irritation in his voice.

“Why don’t you tell me about you then?” the Sniper asked, “Or do I have to go digging for files.”

“You don’t need to know anything,” he growled.

His eyes swooped from side to side. He searched row after row of the parking lot. Much of it was empty, since a lot of people had gone out for the day. No matter where he looked, he could not spot the red car that Antoine drove.

“Well, it would be nice to start knowing more than your name,” the Sniper argued.

“You don’t need to know anything,” Hugh was mostly distracted by his search for that car, that he did not notice that the man was walking closer to him.

“Like maybe what kind of drink you like so that we can sit down for a beer,” the Sniper replied, ignoring Hugh’s protest.

“Are you not listening?” the Spy turned to face the taller man. He dared not look intimidated, puffing his chest up and making a scene of making himself look bigger and meaner.

“I’m listening,” the Sniper sounded so calm and reserved. It was as if the man was unaware that he was being challenged in any way.

Despite his failure to intimidate the Sniper, he kept his position firm. He would not back down. He would play the strength of feigning his bold attitude.

“I told you, I’m listening,” the Sniper protested.

“If you were listening, you would have left by now,” Hugh growled.

“Just because you might have said it…between the lines…doesn’t mean I want to,” the Sniper argued, gesturing with both hands at the Spy.

“I’m telling you to leave now!” Hugh raised his voice.

“I don’t have to,” the Sniper replied firmly, “I’m not leaving.”

Hugh growled and turned away from the Sniper. The car had to be around here somewhere. Where would Antoine have gone already? The city? The store?

“Have you ever _tried_ being less bitchy?” the Sniper asked, as if being the sane man in this conversation. His tone grated on the Spy’s nerves.

“I don’t have time for this,” Hugh gestured dismissively, as he left the parking lot. Antoine was not here, and neither was his car.

“If you’re looking for your Spy pals, they all ditched,” the Sniper had a slight tease in his voice this time.

Hugh grit his teeth, but kept his visage looking unaffected. He followed the walking path down to the courtyard, where most of the stands were already clearing up breakfast and preparing lunch. His stomach reminded him that he had not yet had anything to eat today. Now was just not a good time to sit down and eat, not with this man looming around him.

“I’m just trying to be friendly,” the Sniper spoke with a hint of desperation in his tone.

“I don’t care,” Hugh gestured dismissively at the man, “I don’t have time to deal with you.”

“You make time for others! I just want to be a friend,” the Sniper pleaded, “Is that so much to ask for? I’m being friendly and everything. I know I’m not as normal as everybody else, but I’m just trying. Like the other day, I was just trying to help!”

“Like the other day when you assaulted the other Spy?” he stopped and turned on his heels to confront the Sniper.

He looked abashed at that, “Well, um…I meant…I meant when you spilled the pancakes on your suit and I tried to wash it out.”

“You destroyed my suit,” he lied, putting mirth in his tone.

“I didn’t say I knew how to clean a suit!” the man proclaimed, “I was just trying to fix the mess! That’s all!”

“If you want to clean up this mess, then you will back away and never speak to me again,” Hugh growled.

“I’m the only one here being civil! Look, I’m sorry I hit your friend. He was being rude!”

“Aww, the poor Sniper ran into a moment of somebody being rude! Excuse me if I am not weeping for your horrendous experience,” he rolled his eyes and turned to resume through the courtyard. The food smelled so good that his stomach was growling.

“I’m only asking you for a chance,” the Sniper pleaded, following closely at the Spy’s heels, “I know! Let me buy you lunch. It’s the least I can do for what happened.”

“The _least_ ,” Hugh rolled his eyes again, but did not look at the Sniper.

He did not intend to entertain the man’s ideas. He would just keep moving and figure something else out. Surely there had to be somewhere that Antoine would be hanging out, or perhaps working.

That was when it hit him. Antoine must be working on papers and such. He must have gone to the office building. He resolved to march in and demand the keys to the vehicle, if only to get away from the monster stalking him so closely. He was not yet sure where he would go, but he would drive until he lost the Sniper’s camper.

His vigor was renewed as he directed his feet towards the distant office building. It stood just beyond the other living spaces. He passed the Scouts’ building, the Demos’ building and the Soldiers’ building too. All the while, he could hear the taller man easily keeping pace with him.

As he headed to the office building, he realized how alone he was with this man. Not that he had not been alone with him before. Being alone with him was much more dangerous than if there were witnesses though.

Then again, if the other day was anything to go by, witnesses would not mind watching a Sniper knock a Spy around. They would probably hoot and holler things for the Sniper to do to him. For them it was an entertaining fight, and it was satisfaction for their years of fear and loathing associated to the Spy class. That dangerous thought brought Hugh to pick up the pace.

As he stepped through the door, pushing his way past the heavy entrance to head for the elevators, the Sniper decided to comment, “What? So you’re just going to go do paperwork instead?”

“Would it get you to leave me alone?” Hugh commented.

He dared not look at the Sniper though. He kept his eyes forward, locking them on the button to call the elevators. He looked up at the lights that showed which floor the elevator was on. He was basically bounding on the balls of his feet like a Scout, waiting impatiently for the elevator to arrive.

“These things always take so long,” the Sniper commented, as if trying to make idle chat.

Hugh did not respond, deciding to give him the silent treatment. Perhaps he would get more bored if he found that there was no reaction to any of his provocations. He would get nothing out of the Spy, so his venture would turn out to be fruitless.

When the elevator opened, he was surprised to see several people inside. There was a Heavy listening intently, a Soldier who looked like he had lost some brain matter and was just staring listlessly at nothing, and a Scout who was talking to them. The Scout was holding a cup of coffee, carefully gesturing with it in a way that prevented it from spilling onto his suit. That was the most juxtaposing part of the view, was the Scout wearing an actual suit like he was some sort of businessman.

“Oh hey, we’re here!” the Scout commented, stepping past Hugh and the Sniper. He was quickly followed by the Heavy and the Soldier, both of them quiet as they seemed to take to the Scout as their leader.

Hugh turned his attention to the elevator. He stepped inside and tried to get the doors to close before the Sniper stepped in. Unfortunately the man was as skinny as his legs were long. He slipped right through the narrow entrance as it was closing and stood next to Hugh.

“Nice try,” the Sniper jeered.

Hugh made a disgusted noise in his throat as he pressed a button. He already knew which floor Antoine was working on, he just had to get there and get the keys from him. He waited impatiently for the elevator to move, staring sternly at the numbers above him.

“So, you’re really doing this?” the Sniper asked.

Hugh refused to speak. He kept his eyes trained upon the numbers. He would not let his gaze move anywhere else, for fear that the Sniper might take that as an advantaged moment.

“I don’t think I did anything that warrants _this_ treatment!” the Sniper protested irritably.

Hugh once again said nothing. He steeled himself, inwardly refusing to give into the want to correct the Sniper. He wanted so badly to turn to him and yell his lungs out, but he just could not budge.

Suddenly, the elevator stopped, but they were not on a floor. The elevator halted and the lights turned off. Red emergency lights came on, leaving them in a dimly lit space. This could not be happening to him, he thought as he realized that he was trapped in a small space with this Sniper.

“Huh,” was all the Sniper could say.

Hugh had had enough. He was tired of this bullshit. He wanted to crack his fist across the man’s jaw. He was just livid at this point. He was tired of the man’s antics and he wanted to be done with him.

He turned to face the Sniper, hands clutched into fists at his sides. The Sniper was blinking at him, giving a stupidly ignorant look. It was almost as if he had no idea what was going on or that he was not wanted.

“You are a fucking nightmare! An imbecile with his head shoved so far up his own ass, you don’t even see that people mock and laugh at you! You are pathetic! You keep chasing me around, when you are by far the last person I would shake hands with!” he vented angrily, “I’m done with your fucking bullshit! I’ve been avoiding you so you would just leave me alone! But no, apparently crazy does not understand what give up and back down mean! No, crazy apparently thinks that saying ‘go away’ means that I want anything to do with you!”

He took careful breaths so as not to lose his head. The last thing he needed was to shout until he became woozy. This was a small cramped space, so it would get more uncomfortable soon enough. He needed to focus on not getting to the end point before help came, lest he passed out in the company of this hoodlum.

“You have been nothing but grating on my nerves! Your taunting behavior is absurd and you don’t even belong in the places you go! Nobody wants you around! No Spies in that building want _you_ around!” Hugh ranted angrily, “I’m sick of you lurking around like some wolf looking for the slaughter. I’m not some goat you can chase! Get out of my space and leave me the hell alone!”

There was silence between them. He stared at the man, watching how his visage changed. Something softened, and it seemed like he moved backwards, away from Hugh, without moving his feet. The two of them stared each other down for the longest time.

When he was fed up, he turned to the button controls. There were buttons for the floors, but there were also buttons for emergencies. Unfortunately, anything that would have overrode whatever this was to take them to a floor required a key. As he read the tiny English sign, he sighed in despair to find that such a key belonged with the fire department.

He closed his eyes and sighed. This was just fantastic. He was stuck in the elevator between floors with this monster. He was not even sure what to call him, since he had no information on the man. His name could have been anything and he could have been from any random base. Whatever Antoine had told him could have been an inaccuracy or a fib.

He heard the Sniper’s clothes shuffle and move. He decided to keep his eyes on the controls, daring not to urge the Sniper to socialize with him. He did not want further contact with the man. He would rather keep his distance, so he would do just that. Besides, the Sniper was moving _away_ from him and not towards him.

He put his focus back into reading what was on the controls. There was a whole set of instructions for such a scenario where the elevator stopped halfway with people inside. It had a lot of information and he had to force his mind to focus. The flashing red lights was distracting, and the small noises the Sniper was making now started to attract his thoughts.

He pressed the call button, hoping that would call somebody’s attention to the emergency. He swayed back and forth on his heels, waiting as the entire elevator became filled with the soft sound of ringing.

“May I have your name please?” somebody on the other side.

Hugh froze at that question. He was not about to just give his name away. He was not going to give it to the Sniper and he definitely was not going to give it to the woman on the line. He most certainly would not give it to both.

“Names are not important at this moment,” he spoke hastily to cut the woman down in her questioning, “There are two men trapped in an elevator in the North Office Building at Mann Co.”

“Sir, we’ll dispatch help for you right away,” the woman said as if she had already done so, “Can you tell me your name please?”

“My name is not important!” he barked at her.

“He doesn’t share with anybody,” the Sniper butted in, “He’s some lone wolf who doesn’t like friendly people.”

“And what’s your name, sir?” the woman asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Hugh exclaimed.

“Xavier, Xavier Hackley,” the Sniper replied in a matter-of-factly voice.

Hugh groaned inwardly. He could already feel the impression of assuming that he should give his name as well coming his way. He dared not meet the Sniper’s face either, especially not when he turned to look to the Spy.

“See? That was not so hard,” the woman said, “Alright. Dispatch is an hour out, so you boys sit tight. I will be sure to alert local security. Hopefully somebody can come down there and check on you.”

“Hopefully,” Hugh growled with the thick flavor of sarcasm on his tongue.

“Sorry about him,” the Sniper apologized to the woman, “He’s on edge.”

“That’s alright. You two sit tight. Don’t panic. Somebody will be down there soon,” the woman’s voice cut out with a loud click.

“Yes, sure in about an hour,” Hugh growled irritably.

“You know,” the Sniper stepped closer to him, raising a finger to point at his face, “You could learn a thing or two about handling emergency situations.”

“I’m well-versed in handling crisis situations,” Hugh folded his arms over his chest defensively, “The sense of anger I’m dealing with is because _you’re_ the one I have to deal with it with!”

“Alright, you don’t have to make a big deal out of it!” the Sniper raised both hands defensively.

Hugh threw his hands up into the air with exasperation, “Don’t have to make a big deal out of it? What? Being stalked is not a big deal? Being silently threatened is not a big deal? Having allies assaulted is not a big deal? I think this situation is a _very_ big deal!”

“I think you’re blowing things out of proportion,” the Sniper argued.

“I’m not blowing anything out of proportion,” Hugh was stern as he spoke, “I am invariably angry about having been stalked across the entire property by a Sniper who can’t take the most blatant suggestion to _go away_!”

“I’m not the one who is out to chase away friendly people,” the Sniper argued, with a calm tone that did not seem like he was registering just how angry Hugh was.

“You are insufferable!” the Spy growled, moving away from the Sniper. He avoided the corners, as he dared not lock himself into a smaller location, lest the Sniper came at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew.  
> It has been hard to get in time for writing. It is difficult to finish a chapter because of this.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> I really enjoy writing from Hugh's perspective. A lot of this story takes inspiration from real events and real experiences.


	7. Elevator Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh is still stuck in an elevator, but help comes to save him.

The change was slow and gradual. It made its way in a creeping manner. The air itself gave away nothing of the change, but Hugh knew it when he had to take his jacket off.

It had been God knows how long. Every ticking moment seemed to drag on into an infinity of minutes. They had been here longer than an hour.

The hours were starting to drag on the Spy and make the room much more memorable. The bland smooth metal walls were all he could remember anymore though. He could not bother to remember there ever being anything else.

First it was the heat he noticed, then just how stale the air felt. The space was too small and tight. It was already starting to feel smaller and tighter.

For once, the Sniper did something agreeable. He sat himself down in a corner, far away from the Spy. He seemed to be pouting though, making a quiet fuss over being scolded before.

Meanwhile, Hugh was trying to focus on anything that would keep his mental state stable. He did not want to have any sort of break down before they got out of there. The heat was making him feel tired though, and that meant that he might fall asleep too.

With that worry on his mind, he could not just sit down like the Sniper was. He left his jacket on the floor, but paced about in his corner of the elevator. His impatience only made the feeling of boredom more excruciating to his situation.

“Would you stop it?” the Sniper suddenly spoke up, “You’re making me anxious.”

“So sorry to make you feel anxious,” Hugh replied sarcastically. He could not care less about how he made the Sniper feel right now.

“You’re not making any good of a difference by pacing around like that,” the Sniper commented.

“And you’re not making any difference by talking about it,” Hugh replied. Agitation was growing just beneath the surface of his skin, in the form of a tingling sensation that made him want to scratch himself.

“I’ve got a better way of passing the time,” the Sniper said.

“I don’t care,” was Hugh’s response.

“What’s your favorite color?” the Sniper asked.

“What?” Hugh gave him a deadpan look.

“I asked you for your favorite color,” the Sniper requested.

“I don’t care,” Hugh dismissed him, as he continued to pace.

“ _What’s_ your _favorite color_?” the Sniper demanded in a louder voice.

Fed up with this hooligan, Hugh responded with, “Fish.”

“A jester then,” the Sniper growled with distaste, “Alright. Mine’s brown. Not brown like the dirt. Brown like the rusty color you get when a bike sits out in the rain.”

Hugh did not respond to this. He just kept pacing, trying to keep himself busy. He had to keep his body moving and prevent himself from dozing or worse.

“What type of food do you like best?” the Sniper asked.

Hugh figured he was probably hoping he answered something like fish again. He was not about to give into his game. He would answer this man’s stupid little questions with his own nonsense.

“Michigan,” he responded, after some hesitation.

The Sniper was quiet for a couple of minutes. He seemed to be filing that information away. The man’s face was turned down and he was frowning at his lap.

“Got a…a favorite pastime?” the Sniper pressed.

“Pestering people for the sake of bothering them,” Hugh replied snidely.

“Favorite animal?” the man asked, with a touch of hope in his tone.

“Tacos,” Hugh rolled his eyes. He was not even really thinking about his answers anymore. The answers just rolled off the tongue as he tried to deflect the Sniper’s interrogation.

“White wine or red wine?” the Sniper quipped.

“Dry blood,” Hugh growled in disdain. This anger was creeping under his skin, goading him into a frustrated frenzy.

“Indoor person or outdoor person?” the Sniper barely missed a beat.

“I’m the type of person who doesn’t like being interrogated!” Hugh barked.

The Sniper paused, thinking over that response, “Okay then. Twenty questions is not your game.”

Hugh sighed with exasperation, “What is taking them so long?”

He looked to the call button, thinking on pressing it. His mouth was so dry and the room was so warm. He needed an escape from this soon.

The sloshing sound of liquid caught his attention. He dared not look at first, remembering that some people had non-edible liquids sometimes. In battle, a Sniper could carry a jar of his own piss as a weapon. Not unsanitary but completely unacceptable in lieu of what was happening.

Liquid sloshed and the Sniper gulped. He turned his head to see the man tilting his head back with a canteen in hand. A drop of water strayed away and dripped down from the corner of his mouth.

He watched the droplet trail down his chin to his neck, where it dripped off onto his clothing. His eyes were brought to the bump on his throat, the apple that bobbed with each thirsty gulp. The noise itself was forgotten as the canteen lowered and a hand moved into view to wipe his mouth.

He did not have a chance to look away before he realized that he was being offered the canteen. He flinched, surprised at the response. The Sniper said nothing this time, finally shutting his mouth as he held up the canteen for him to take. For once, the man did not take the opportunity to talk.

Still, there was a point to not accepting that drink. There was a point to refusing the Sniper’s advances. There was a point to demanding his space. He was his own person, and he deserved some amount of respect.

He took a moment to remind himself of this. He deserved respect. He deserved to be treated as an equal with his own space. He deserved to have his space respected. Still, that Sniper was holding the canteen up to him, waiting for him to take it.

Before he could do anything, a loud bang came from overhead. He flinched, then froze. He held his breath, waiting for another sound.

“Is anybody in there?” a voice called from somewhere above them.

Hugh hurried towards the door, “We’re in here!”

He heard the Sniper getting to his feet behind him. Unfortunately, he also heard him chuckling, “We.”

Hugh did not have a chance to question him about it, before the voice returned, “Hang tight, we’re going to get you out!”

“Thank God,” Hugh breathed a sigh of relief.

“ _You’re_ religious?” the Sniper inquired, incredulously.

Hugh frowned but said nothing. He waited, listening intently as hands worked on metal above them. It was a long few minutes before they pried the doors open.

“Howdy there!” an Enginer peered down at them. The elevator ceiling was slightly raised above the floor, giving a small crawl space.

“You boys look cramped!” a Soldier got on his knees, giggling at the sight of the two men trapped inside.

“Just get us out of here!” Hugh pleaded.

“He’s a bit antsy about being in such a small space,” the Sniper explained, in a calm voice.

Hugh grit his teeth against saying anything. He looked at the Sniper’s cocked grin as he looked down at him. He seethed over the thought that this man took a scrap of joy from his irritation. The frustration was just building up, ready to explode.

“Just give us a minute,” the Engineer urged, “We’ll have you up in a bit.”

“Don’t want anything to knock the elevator down!” the Soldier chuckled, with a tauntingly evil grin.

Hugh shuddered at the grin, “Just tell us the fastest way out of this thing.

“Lemme secure this here,” the Engineer called, as he got to his feet to work on something.

“How about we just get the Spy out first?” the Sniper suggested, “Soldier, you take his arms, I’ll give him a lift. He’s not doing so well in here.”

Hugh looked at him, outraged and astounded. The horror of being talked about like some sort of child made him livid. The insinuation that he was somehow to be handled with kid gloves just made him even more outraged. It burned his ears and made him feel like he was in a piping hot steam room.

“Don’t get worked up about it,” the Sniper patted him on the shoulder.

“Pass him up!” the Soldier called, readying himself to take somebody’s arms.

“You’re not doing any such thing!” Hugh exclaimed.

He took a step away. He dared not challenge the Sniper’s strength. He had already proven himself more capable in that department than Hugh. At this point, all he had were his wits and possibly a few tricks to keep himself out of the man’s grip.

“Don’t make such a fuss,” the Sniper urged, reaching out a hand to him. Did he honestly think that Hugh would take it?

“Hold on, Solly!” the Engineer growled, giving the Soldier a kick, “It ain’t secure yet! It ain’t safe.”

“Keep working on that, Engie,” the Soldier replied, barely grunting at the kick, “I’ll get the boys out.”

“Don’t you dare!” Hugh warned, hoping to keep the taller man at bay.

“Ain’t gonna hurt you,” the Sniper was stepping towards him, as if at a wary animal, “Just gonna hoist you up and out.”

“Don’t you touch me!” Hugh raised his voice.

“Stop fussing!” the Soldier called down.

“Soldier! Stop encouraging them! Get over here!” the Engineer barked at him.

“I won’t leave no man behind!” the Soldier barked, reaching down into the elevator.

“Soldier!” the Engineer exclaimed. There were bootsteps that announced the man stomping over the Soldier to drag him away from the elevator doors.

“Let’s just make it quick,” the Sniper insisted, holding out his hands towards Hugh.

Hugh stepped away from him, wanting to stay farther from him, “Don’t touch me!”

“Engie, let go of me!” the Soldier grunted.

“You get your ass away from there, Solly! I ain’t finished!” the Engineer’s voice grew distant as he dragged the Soldier away.

Hugh took a breath of relief. He was farther from being killed by some idiot and this monster teaming up to doom him. He had yet to even fathom the breadth of the space they had between the floor and the ceiling of the elevator, let alone how that would harm him if something went awry.

“Looks like you got lucky,” the Sniper huffed.

“Stop acting as if I am some beast or child without bodily autonomy,” Hugh growled.

“Stop acting like a child, and maybe I will,” the Sniper responded.

“I’ve not been treated with such disgusting behavior in all of my life!” Hugh threw his hands up in exasperation.

“I’ve not met a man who has his head so far up his ass as you do,” the Sniper quipped.

“If you had half the understanding of just how far your head is up your own ass,” Hugh growled back at him.

“Then what?” the warning growl came with the tingle of fear up the spine.

Hugh straightened his back, daring not to look swayed by the man’s behavior. The carnal behavior warned him though. He was trapped with him, after all. Given his previous feats of strength, it was not a good idea to get into a fight with him in such a tight space.

“What are you going to do? What’s going to happen?” the Sniper took a step towards him.

He felt his back press against the wall. The cold of the metal did not pierce through his jacket. Instead, he felt his body heat permeating through to heat the metal. If only it was enough to cause it to melt away and let him fall through. The beast in front of him just kept advancing, until he was too close, and the Spy finally realized that he had missed his chance at escaping being cornered.

The Sniper lowered his voice as he leaned closer, “I’ve had enough of your pint sized mouth yammering. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep shut. If you want to have it out, let’s actually have it out. I can dance, with or without weapons. Your choice though.”

Hugh felt small tremors go through his body. The terror was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt like electricity was just zipping through his entire being.

Just as he thought this situation was going to get worse, the Engineer piped up to interrupt them, “Alright boys!”

The Sniper turned to look, curious as to what was going on. Hugh felt the tension leave him in a breath of relief. That did not stop the tremors though, which made his knees buckle beneath the weight of his body.

“I’ve got the jack set,” the Engineer said with a sniff, “We’re ready to go! Soldier’s back with the ladder.”

“That’s alright, I can easily hoist him,” the Sniper threw a thumb at Hugh.

“I’ll take the ladder,” he glared at the Sniper.

“You mean the latter?” the Sniper had this weirdly teasing grin that showed his canines.

Hugh stiffened at the sight of his teeth, “No. I meant the ladder.”

The two of them stood there in bitter silence as the two men above them worked to get the ladder down. It slid down through the opening, careful not to bump the jacks the Engineer had secured. Before it even touched the ground, Hugh stepped forward to take the first turn to climb out.

“See? I knew you wanted out of here bad,” the Sniper chuckled, “You just kept me company.”

Hugh grit his teeth, silently seething as he climbed up the ladder. He was too distracted to protest, when two sets of burly arms took his arms and pulled him the rest of the way out. Relief settled in as the cool air washed over him and he sat upon the hallway flooring. The tiles were so cold that he wanted to lay down.

His attention came back when he noticed they were helping the Sniper out of the elevator. The Sniper huffed, as if he had worked hard to get out of that elevator. He chuckled awkwardly and smiled at the Engineer and Soldier.

“Thanks,” the Sniper said with a gratuitous grin.

“Yes, thank you,” Hugh put in, not wanting to be left out of showing appreciation. For whatever reason, everybody turned disapproving eyes on him.

That was fine. He did not mind being despised for being a Spy. It was not just that nobody knew how he was different from any other Spy. It was also that they were supposed to _not_ know the difference between any of the Spies. That would otherwise make it too easy for people to pick a Spy out in a crowd. They start paying attention to details that could identify them easier.

“Wasn’t the fire department supposed to come?” the Sniper asked.

“They’re um…hung up on some fires,” the Engineer scratched his neck.

“Somebody let the Pyros out!” the Soldier announced.

“Oh,” the Sniper sounded only mildly surprised.

“They would have been a few more hours before they could get to you,” the Engineer added, half-heartedly.

Hugh got shakily to his feet. He did his best to not let on just how tired his body was from being cooped up in there. He hid the sensations of fear especially well, daring not to let on that he was afraid of the Sniper.

“Whatever the case,” Hugh straightened his jacket, “I’ll be on my way.”

“You’re going to go work?” the Sniper sounded more surprised by that than anything that had happened so far.

“Good day,” he replied dismissively, as he hurried down the hall. It was not long before the Sniper’s footsteps started following too.

He paid it little mind, hurrying to his destination and slipping into the door. He took a careful breath as he listened for the Sniper’s footsteps outside. The man was determined to find him, but had no idea that he had slipped into a door.

When he no longer had to worry about the Sniper, he turned his attention to the office. There was little there to tell of Antoine’s presence. Like his own office, the man kept it pristine and well put together. There would not even be a finger print with which to identify the Spy in his own office.

“Antoine?” he asked the empty space, as he approached the desk.

He placed his gloved hands on the desk and stared at an empty space on the wood. He had come up here to find Antoine. He needed to find the car so that he could escape. He took the elevator up to this office to find him. He had been trapped for hours with that monster to try and find a man who was not even here.

The sting in his eyes made him rub them on his sleeve by instinct. He did his best to remove any moisture, not wanting to cause any problems for himself. It worsened though, with his chest tightening and the dryness in his throat becoming more apparent than ever.

His hands tightened into fists as he swallowed through a lump in his throat. Definitely felt like a little frog had crawled down his throat in an attempt to get to his lungs. The burrowing frog stayed, in spite of his swallowing. Following it was renewed moisture in his eyes.

“Merde,” he breathed as he rubbed his eyes on his sleeve again.

He stepped away from the desk and walked around it. There was no trash in the small black bin. There were no papers lying about. When he checked the drawers, he could not even open them. Not that he wanted to, but he needed _some_ sort of information before returning empty handed.

He stepped over to the window, a view that was much bigger than his own. It overlooked the forests, with a view that painted his vision with greens reds and yellows. The calming billowing trees reminded him of Colorado. Trees like the ones at the base in Colorado spread out before him for miles.

Colorado never held anything special for him when he was working there. He never liked the muddy terrain underneath the canopy of trees. He never liked the heights to which he had to go just to see this kind of view, when they were at the base. Usually, it meant that he had been blown into the air by a Pyro or a Soldier.

He turned and leaned against the window, letting the cool temperature of the glass soak into his clothes. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the glass. He was so exhausted and out of his mind that he just wanted to pass out and be done with this day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got big plans for these boys.


	8. Spy's Agent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy is offered a job. It could be the saving grace he needs to get out of his current situation.

The creaking of a door was what startled him out of sleep. Sleep? When had he fallen asleep?

He found that he was curled up, with his knees hugged to his chest, and a desk in front of him. He could already feel the pain in his back from the way his head had fallen forward for hours.

He shook himself, then rubbed his face with his hands. He was not in bed. He was note even in sleeping attire. He was still in his suit. He was dressed in his sweat soaked suit. Somehow, it still held the smell of the elevator.

He was in an office. Before him loomed a desk, with the chair properly pushed in. Being on the floor, he could see the wheels, as well as other mechanisms that made the chair spin and move easily around.

Nearby was shelving, with books stacked up nice and tidy. Despite having so much paperwork to do, as well as the fact that their only job was filling out paperwork, the place showed no signs of belonging to a pencil pusher.

The carpeting on the floor was a two tone gray. It was dull and lifeless, but it allowed the red hue of the curtains to pop. It certainly helped the red of the shelving stand out.

“Hugh?” his processing of the room was interrupted when the sound of a Spy decloaking filled the room.

He turned his head to the smoke. He looked up to the figure, as he crouched down to his level to meet his eyes. He rubbed his eyes to clear his vision, bringing his sleeve over his face.

“Hugh, what happened to you?” Antoine’s voice was calm and almost comforting.

All Hugh could say in response was a groan. He had barely woken up and he was too groggy to start forming sentences. Some coffee would probably be the only thing to help him at this point.

Antoine switched to French, “I was so worried about you. I haven’t seen you since this morning. The buildings are all on fire. There’s smoke everywhere!”

Hugh huffed a sigh, “Somebody let the Pyros out then?”

Antoine huffed what almost seemed to be a laugh. He shook his head, looking around and at Hugh. He did not seem to know what to think of the situation. He must have been as appalled by this find as Hugh was to be found here like this.

“You look terrible,” Antoine said softly, “Tell me you at least were not in the fires.”

“No, I was locked in an elevator,” Hugh replied, reaching up to scratch his head through the balaclava.

“Is that all?” Antoine asked, sarcastically.

“I was trapped with that… _beast_ ,” it was all he could really call the man.

He no longer thought of him as a human man. He was something else entirely. He was something with no regards for other humans, let alone a fellow man. The sheer primal behavior itself was enough to make Hugh wary.

“The RED Sniper? The…one from Silent Hill? Him? I wouldn’t call him a beast,” Antoine patted Hugh’s shoulder, “He’s a massive dick and a pervert to say the least. I don’t think you’re in a good state of mind. Let’s get you somewhere where you can rest.”

“I don’t want to go back,” Hugh groaned as Antoine took his arm over his shoulders.

“To the barracks?” Antoine asked with surprise, as he lifted Hugh to his feet, “Why?”

“He knows I’m there,” Hugh groaned.

“You’re not there now,” Antoine argued.

“He’s not going to leave me alone,” Hugh protested, “He’s going to keep on like this. I can’t stay here.”

“Well, you certainly can’t stay in my office,” Antoine added.

“Where do you suggest I go?” Hugh argued with a huff.

“Don’t _you_ have an office?” Antoine asked.

Hugh pulled away, trying to straighten himself. He almost ended up falling on his face. He was so dizzy, but he was not sure why. His flailing for balance cued his friend. He gladly clung to the arm that caught him and let the other man help him straighten up.

“Have you had anything to drink?” Antoine asked.

“Not all day,” Hugh shook his head.

“Food?” Antoine pressed.

“I didn’t even have breakfast,” the thought of food made Hugh’s stomach growl with need. What he would not give for a dish of anything to eat.

Antoine sighed, “Dammit. Alright. Sit down.” He pulled the chair out from under the desk and guided Hugh into its seat.

Hugh groaned as he sat down. Everything felt bad. He felt like he was sick, as his body sagged in the chair.

“Just stay put while I make some calls,” Antoine insisted.

 

 

Hugh woke with a start. He looked around in surprise. He had fallen asleep on the desk, his head resting upon his forearm.

He blinked and looked around as his shoulder was shaken. He blinked up at Antoine with surprise. He was not sure what to make of the situation. A glass of water was put into one of his hands. A couple of pills were put into his other hand. He only felt more stumped about what was going on.

“Take these,” Antoine insisted, “The doctor said it would help with the dehydration.”

“You awake now?” another voice asked.

Hugh was putting the pills in his mouth when he looked across the desk at the man who spoke. He felt rather stumped at seeing the stranger. With dark brown hair combed back, barely hiding the balding spot at the back of his head, and a strangely groomed mustache and beard, the man looked like he was out of touch with fashion. Add his choice of a corduroy suit with a pastel blue shirt, and Hugh could not pour himself into that glass of water sooner, just to look away.

“Alright, I’ve got an offer for you,” the man slapped some papers onto the desk.

“I don’t think now is a good time,” Antoine insisted, firmly.

“This isn’t something that can come at another time! This is a limited time offer,” the man said. He had this clip tone that spoke of importance. He probably thought very highly of himself and his work.

“Are you awake now?” Antoine put a firm hand on his shoulder.

Hugh gave him a nod, “I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” the man across from him said, “Because I’m about to offer you a limited time deal.”

“Who are you?” Hugh asked, squinting at the man with irritation.

“I’m an agent,” the man explained, “I work with Mann Co to get actors into spots they need to be in.”

“I don’t see any connection here,” Hugh said dismissively.

“I’m the man who finds the talent,” the man argued, keeping his tone firm, “I work with the production teams, get the parts’ descriptions and go searching for talent. Sometimes I go fishing for actors in Hollywood to dig out stars that bring Mann Co back on the map, sometimes I find it in Mann Co’s own employees.”

“I’m not following,” Hugh groaned.

“Are you hung over or something?” the man asked, with a frown, “Because I can deal with drug addicts, alcoholics, and anything you can throw my way. I just need you to take this script and sign the contract!”

“I’m not interested in any contracts,” Hugh growled. Last contract he remembered signing was one that took his life away.

“This is not just any contract!” the man insisted.

“Let’s see that,” Antoine snatched up the papers and started reading them.

Nearby, Hugh noted a sandwich that had been placed beside him. His stomach growled and he did not hesitate to take it. He immediately stuffed the sandwich into his mouth. He chowed down on the sandwich so fast that he did not even realize what kind of sandwich it was.

“Local respawn,” Antoine muttered, “No use of guns on set. No possession. Blades must be under two inches in length. Violent behavior reported must go through the human resource- Wait…there’s a human resources committee?”

“Yea,” the agent chuckled, “Surprising there’s such a thing, isn’t it?”

“Work time from nine am to six pm,” Antoine went on, “Private living quarters provided.”

“Your buddy sounds impressed,” the agent said to Hugh.

“You’re reading the situation incorrectly,” Antoine put on a snide tone.

“Am I? Because, the way I see it, you’re still reading,” the man insisted, with a cocky smile.

Hugh sighed, “Let me see it.” He held out a hand for the contract.

Antoine handed it over. He placed it before himself and began thumbing through the pages. He did his best to skim them while he was this tired. He felt glad for years of practice in skimming for important information.

“Well?” the agent pressed, eagerly.

“Could you give us a minute?” the other Spy gestured to the door, hoping the man might just leave.

“Not a problem,” he picked up his briefcase, “I’ll just be outside.”

“Take five steps away from the door,” Antoine commanded, as he watched the man leave, “If I find you within that boundary, HR won’t ever hear from you again.”

“Uh…H…HR huh?” the man opened the door and smiled nervously at Antoine.

“Nor your superiors,” Antoine added, “Or anybody important in your life.”

“It’s fine! It’s fine,” the man insisted, holding up a hand defensively, “No need for threats. I’ll do as I’m told.”

The two of them were quiet as they waited. Hugh was still skimming through the contract. There was not as much here as he was used to in contracts. He ended up doubling back to make sure he had not missed finer details that were too important. He dared not miss the one thing that would put a hitch in all of this.

“Well?” Antoine asked.

“Well what?” Hugh did not look at him as he thumbed through the pages for a fourth time, “It’s just another job working in front of cameras. I don’t want to be on camera.”

“Between the recent fires and your unfortunate dealings with that Sniper, you might want to consider taking it,” Antoine suggested.

Hugh cast him a glare, “What?”

“It’s right in the contract,” Antoine poked the papers with a finger, “Living arrangements will be provided. That means you won’t be stuck living with others in the same room anymore-”

“That’s never bothered me,” Hugh dismissed. That was mostly a lie, since he would prefer nothing more than his personal privacy. He was sure that Antoine felt the same about that too.

“ _And_ it would get you away from the Sniper,” the other Spy pressed on.

Hugh hesitated at that suggestion. He glanced up at Antoine, then turned the page. It definitely stated that living quarters would be provided. They would be private, complete with furniture, a bathroom, a desk and a closet.

“According to this, you’re only on camera when you are on set,” Antoine added, “The cameras aren’t hidden. They’ll be apparent. This is a stage set up. Must be like…Hollywood influence or something.”

“I should see a script,” Hugh suggested.

“For what?” Antoine rolled his eyes, “You should take the job. You’ll disappear, then the Sniper will forget about you. You’ll have some time away from other Spies. It only ensures that you’ll do the work. It does not say you have to stay there. You’ll have just as much free rein as you have here.”

Something about what Antoine said hit Hugh like a brick. He was not sure why at first. He had to really think about why it affected him.

“Do you think that Andrew has forgotten about me? Or…Glenn?” he asked, hesitantly. He did not even know if these names were relevant to the other Spy anymore, but they were still important to Hugh.

“Soldier and Sniper? Of course they haven’t forgotten about you,” Antoine patted his shoulder, “Why? What makes you think they would forget you?”

Hugh shook his head, “I don’t know. Just…” He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Look, the contract only lasts for one season,” Antoine gestured to the contract, “You do the work from episode to episode. Once they finish a season, you’re off the hook.”

“Yea,” Hugh picked up the contract to look at it in his hands. Looking at it now, it seemed kind of like a gift that had fallen upon his head. He did not even know why it was being offered to _him_ of all people.

He gestured to the door, waving for the agent to come in, “Come in!”

The man entered hesitantly, with an awkward smile upon his face. He closed the door behind him as he approached the desk. He looked from one Spy to the other, with hesitance in his eyes.

“Well? What do you think?” the man pressed, his voice a little shakier than it had been before.

“I’ll do it,” Hugh grabbed a pen off of the desk and started signing the lines.

“Oh!” the man had such relief that his entire body seemed to sag lower because of it.

“If this lasts long enough, it’ll benefit me as well,” Hugh explained to the man.

“Well then,” the man lost the shakiness and put on a chipper smile. He had a bounce in his step when he closed the last distance between himself and the desk to take the signed contract. “I hope you enjoy the flight! Be sure to pack warm, because California is hot this time of year.”

“W- California?” Hugh was taken by surprise at the deliberate lack of inclusion of this important detail.

“Well, yea! This isn’t your average Mann Co Productions filming project. It’s a Hollywood based one. We don’t have a studio just lying around in Toronto!” the man chuckled loudly. It seemed much too loud and awkward of a laugh.

“You deliberately left out this information,” Hugh slammed his hands on the desk as he stood from the chair.

“N-no!” the man raised his briefcase in front of himself in a defensive manner.

“You weren’t going to tell me until I signed it either way!” Hugh raised his voice.

Antoine suddenly put a hand on his chest, as if to hold him back, “Relax. It’s just California. What’s the harm? Besides, it gets you farther than we expected. The man won’t _dare_ to drive that far to see you.”

Hugh felt a spark in his chest, one of hope and realization, “You’re right!”

“Yes, please listen to the rational one,” the agent pointed to Antoine.

“You keep your mouth shut,” Hugh barked at the agent, “And as for anybody else asking. If anybody in Mann Co asks about it, you have _no_ idea where I am.”

“Okay, but I’m not sure I would be able to tell them anyways,” the man insisted.

“I’m serious,” Hugh growled, “Nobody else is to know that I am on this project, or where I am.”

“That will be kind of hard, since you will be on television,” the man said, a bit shakily.

“That will be fine,” Hugh gestured dismissively, “The people I’m thinking of don’t watch television. At least, not television produced by Mann Co.”

“A-alright,” the man stammered, “Anything else you need?”

“My flight information,” Hugh said.

“I’ll have that covered!” the man said eagerly, “I’ll be flying with you to California!”

“Good,” Hugh nodded.

“We’ll leave tomorrow afternoon for the airport. Your flight is in the bright pre-light hours of the day after,” the man explained.

“You have the flight booked already?” Antoine asked with surprise.

“For myself,” the agent explained, “I’ll just add another person to the reservation.”

“You do that,” Hugh said, with a dismissive gesture.

 

 

Hugh had everything easily packed. Nothing had been in any sort of order that could not already be relocated into a suitcase anyways. It was simply moved from one container to another.

“Nervous?” Antoine asked softly.

“No,” Hugh replied, as he tucked the last pair of shoes into his suitcase. There was just one set of clothing, with one pair of shoes, that was left out of the suitcase.

“I am,” Antoine admitted.

“Why are _you_ nervous?” Hugh quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve gotten too used to your company here,” Antoine explained. He took a seat next to Hugh on his bed. “It’s been nice catching up on our friendship. I was looking forward to what shenanigans we would get into in town here.”

Hugh chuckled awkwardly, “I’m just worried if you’ll be able to handle Melisa while I’m gone.”

“Oh don’t worry,” Antoine’s voice softened to something even quieter, “She’ll be fine. I’m visiting her and the girl in a couple of days.”

Hugh nodded, “Yea. I feel a bit guilty leaving her here.”

“You’re doing what’s right for you though,” Antoine insisted, giving Hugh a pat on the back, “Whatever is going on with this Sniper, he’s going too far. I’d be more worried if you stayed. This opportunity could not have come at a better time.”

“Yea,” Hugh nodded. He paused, before giving Antoine a nudge with a balled fist.

“Everything is going to be fine,” Antoine smiled at him, “Then when all is said and done, you’ll be back here.”

“Yea,” Hugh sighed, “I just hope here will be better when I come back.”

“About a year of filming a season of that awful drama? Yea, things will be better,” Antoine chuckled.

Hugh chuckled with him, “Awful drama?”

“I did a bit of digging,” Antoine reached into a pocket and pulled out a file of information. He revealed a bunch of information he had on what was apparently a series about mercenaries. “This is what I’ve come up with so far,” Antoine explained, “You’ll be the first real Spy on the show.”

“Looks like they are replacing the Sniper too,” Hugh noted.

“They haven’t cast him yet,” Antoine shrugged, “Maybe you’ll make a new neurotic friend.”

“That isn’t funny,” Hugh gave him a stern look.

“I’m just saying,” Antoine put his hands up defensively.

“Thanks,” Hugh smiled, tucking the information into his suitcase for later.

“Just…do me a favor?” Antoine requested.

“What’s that?” Hugh could not stop smiling.

“Don’t fall in love with California,” Antoine answered.

“Why would I ever do that?” Hugh laughed.

“I mean it,” Antoine pressed, “I’m going to get sick of Melisa up here in Toronto.”

“You’ll be fine,” Hugh patted his back, “Now leave me alone. I need sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just hope that loose ends are tied.


	9. Off to California; Off to Miss Melisa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh goes to California. Antoine goes to visit Melisa.

The flight was long and boring, with a stopover in Denver. Hugh spent some of the time reading the information Antoine had dug up for him. He spent the rest of the time trying to sleep.

Something about being in an American airport had a friendly familiarity to it. Canada was a great place, with friendly people, but the familiarity of American tickled his memories too much. He did not bother reading signs or looking like a tourist, since he had never been to California for more than a few hours. He just followed the agent like a duckling.

“You’re going to love it,” the man was yammering endlessly, “We’ve got a whole set up for you. You even have your own trailer at the studio.”

“Trailer? Why would I need a trailer?” he demanded.

“It’s a place for you to have personal space while you’re at the studio,” the man explained, “Get into character. Take breaks. Get in the zone. You know? It’s not your living space, don’t worry about that.”

“Well…um…I have a guy working on that,” the agent explained, “And I’ll check in on his progress now.”

He pulled out a small cellular device. It was smaller than his awkwardly bulky hands. It only made the dialing look extremely awkward.

“Hey! Marcus! Ah yea, Max. I knew that! Hey listen, I need an update on that apartment search,” the agent said. The voice on the other end was too quiet for Hugh to hear. “Uh huh? Uh huh? Good!”

“What?” Hugh demanded.

The agent put a hand over the phone, “We got you a studio apartment! Apparently it’s got a good view too. We’ll go there in the cab.”

“How will I be going between this apartment and the studio?” Hugh asked.

“We’ll make arrangements, don’t worry,” the agent said dismissively.

 

 

Hugh was annoyed all through the day. He was dragged from one place to another. He was introduced to producers, directors, assistants, and even some people who did not seem to have relevance to any of the work he would be doing. It was an exhausting day of trekking around and riding in cabs, before he was finally brought to his studio apartment.

It was as nice as the man had hyped it. Not that he had put any hype into it. He had not told him any details about the place. It was a good pick though, with beautiful hardwood floors and a big window that overlooked a nearby park.

Finally, the day had slowed down. The room he was in was quiet. The agent was saying his last goodbye for the day. There was a comment about a car coming to pick him up in the morning. There was another comment about officially starting on filming tomorrow. Then there was finally the click of the front door closing behind the incessant man.

Hugh took a deep breath. The place smelled fresh and brand new. It was a new start in a new place. However temporary, it would be a great change from the way things were in Toronto.

He had his own space. He had his own bedroom. The kitchen was all his, though he still needed to stock it with food. And even the view from the window belonged to him. It was a vacation of solitude.

He only wished that there were certain people he could bring along with him on this. If he could have brought Antoine, he probably would have preferred it. If it were not so close to Mann Co Productions, he would have brought Melisa and her daughter.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The sun was shining brightly and the day seemed like something new. With Hugh gone the crazy Sniper did not seem to see a need to come and bother the Spies. In fact, the man seemed to already know Hugh was gone and kept away altogether.

In a way it was a relief. At the same time though, there was something dreadfully terrifying about that. He could only hope that he never ran into this Sniper again.

He shook the thoughts off though. Today was not about him or that creepy man stalking Hugh. Today was the day he went to visit their witness protection project, Melisa.

They kept their visits rare. Often they went together, but there were occasions when Hugh went alone. Now that Antoine thought about it, this was only the second or third time he had gone to her house alone. The last few times were short lived stop offs to make sure she had everything she needed in the quiet rural area. This time needed to be a bit lengthier.

Being cooped up and alone could do awful things to the human mind. Given that they did not just want her hidden for the sake of hiding her, they needed to keep her sane. This was the first time he would come alone for a social visit.

Usually Hugh came along for these. Hugh and Melisa could talk for hours about nothing and everything. Antoine could have sworn something feminine was yanked out of the older Spy when he was talking with this female friend. All the while, Antoine was left to babysitting.

Today, he would have to get to know Melisa a bit better. He had been paying enough attention to know enough about her. She liked oranges and bananas. She hated kiwis, except for kiwi lime pie. She likes hiking as a daily activity. She smiles a lot and always tries to flatter both men when they visit her, probably so that they would stay longer.

It was time to become friends with her. The poor woman being out in the middle of nowhere could not be doing good things for her sanity. She was probably bored out of her mind. With the child added to this, she was probably driven up the wall by the wailing creature.

When he pulled into the driveway, he was surprised by sheep. There had not been any sheep here before. He was not sure what sheep would be doing here.

He parked the car by the side of the road and pulled out the bags he brought. He had picked up a few things that he knew she would like. She could drive herself to the local grocery store, but these were the kinds of things you did not find easily at a rural town’s grocery mart.

He made his way onto the porch and cautiously knocked. He waited and listened to the sound of a kid’s cartoon blaring on the television. The kid was probably enamored with some dancing character on the screen, much the way his boy had been when he was growing up.

It made him chuckle to think of the times he remembered his love yelling at the boys to get out of the house and go play ball. There was one time when Drake had refused to go outside. When his mother threatened to ground him, he just stomped himself upstairs to ground himself.

A few hours investigating the block outside had been enough for Antoine to figure it out. It just took a bit of talking up and over the boys who had been bullying his boy before he got them to disappear. Drake never knew about that time. Probably all he remembered was Antoine coming to his room to say that his mother would not be grounding him and that he would be going outside to play with his ball.

He was chuckling to himself about the memory when the door suddenly opened. His back snapped straight and the memories fled his mind. He felt rather startled, despite having planned to wait until the door opened to him.

“Oh, uh…hello Melisa. I brought a few things,” he handed her the bags.

“Oh! Thank you,” she accepted the bags, “Is it just you today or did Jacques come as well?”

“Oh…uh…it’s just me,” he assured her.

“Oh,” there was such disappointment riddled in her figure. The lines of her face just seemed to sag in a really sad kind of way. Her eyes lost the excitement of company, the luster vanishing.

Well, he would have to tell her at some point or another, “Unfortunately, he had to move. He will be working at a project in California indefinitely.”

“Indefinitely?” she exclaimed with disbelief.

“Indefinitely,” he nodded, “He has to…sort some things out.” He tried to be vague as possible, without inviting questions.

“Well, I won’t keep you too long then,” she said, convinced that he was prepared to leave.

“Oh it’s no trouble,” he insisted, taking a step into the house, “I thought we could talk for a bit. We haven’t had many opportunities to sit down and talk, just you and I.”

“Oh…uh…that would be great!” she looked at the bags in her hands, “Just let me take care of these.”

He nodded, “No problem, take your time.”

“Thanks,” she smiled and headed into the kitchen.

He followed the noises of the television to the den. There, the toddler was plopped down in front of the screen, her eyes big as dinner plates as she mused at the screen’s dancing colors. She seemed to be absolutely mesmerized by it.

“So,” Melisa returned with her hands emptied of the bags, “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh I don’t know,” he gestured vaguely, “Anything?”

“Um…sure,” she shrugged, “We can go with that.”

He chuckled awkwardly, “Well…tell me about yourself! What do you like to do for fun, other than hiking, biking, roller skating, hunting, and mountain climbing?”

She laughed at that, “Ah, I see you’re the jesting one. It’s hard to make jokes around Jacques. He’s so serious most of the time!”

“Really? You two seem to get along well,” he argued, “He doesn’t smile so much as when he is here talking with you.”

“Yea but…a lot of that is fake,” she shrugged, “I’m not that easily fooled, you know. I get that Spies hide things. Even in their faces.”

“Oh really?” he chuckled, “What am I hiding in my face?”

She leaned forward, peering closely at his face, “The fact that you don’t really want to be here. You’re insecurely waiting for Esperanza to start crying. _And_ you’re expecting me to just accept it all like it’s nothing and I’m stupid.”

“Close,” he said.

“Really?” the tone in her voice spoke of confidence in her answer.

“No, not at all,” he rejected his own answer.

“Oh really?” she folded her arms over her chest, still convinced of her own answer.

“Really,” he gave her a nod.

“Prove it,” she demanded, “Let’s have it all out. Only honesty.”

“Only honesty?” he felt like this was something similar to how things had gone a long time ago.

“Yes! Only honesty!” she demanded.

“The honest truth,” he pushed down the memories that wanted to surface and claim his attention, “The honest truth is that I’m worried about how Jacques will be in California. Things have not been well for him. I am constantly watching my back now because there have been some recent…incidences with other violent mercenaries trying to kill Spies.” That last part was an exaggeration, but he hardly thought the Sniper would pause short of murder if he was not stopped by anybody. “And now? Here? Here I am worried that you’re disappointed because I’m _not_ Jacques and that I am not quite the friend you wanted to talk to. But, I am determined to make a friendship and form a bond here.”

“Hmm…alright…alright,” the woman gave him a keen smile, “I’ll buy it.”

He smiled, feeling both relieved and somehow triumphant. He was not sure why though. He was not sure what he really had to accomplish that regarded relishing in that feeling of success as necessary.

“I’m not actually buying it, but I’ll buy it,” Melisa went on, coyly.

He bit his lip. Oh, that was why. How did anybody handle a woman like this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking next chapter is going to be a fill in memory for Antoine.


	10. An Honest Christmas Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine's memory of his lady love.

Boston, Massachusetts, 1961

Antoine stepped up to the door with his hand raised. His heart was pounding the moment he heard shouting. There was no telling exactly who was yelling, so he decided to resume.

His gentle knocks went unheard, so he knocked louder. He listened as the shouting persisted. There was no mistaking her voice as she yelled at one of her boys, “Get the damn door!”

“Ma! I’m getting the door!” Drake called back in frustration.

When the door opened, Antoine was not expecting to find himself in front of the young man he worked against. Still at this little war, he had been wary enough to wear his balaclava. This only made things more tense between himself and the BLU Scout.

“What the hell do _you_ want?” the Scout spat with mirth and ire.

“I’m here f-” he was cut off as he saw her appear somewhere just behind him.

He offered something of a smile, “Oh…there’s my lovely rose.”

“Ew! No! Nooo! Ma no!” Drake threw his hands in the air, then tried to close the door on him.

“Drake, Open that door!” he heard her call out angrily.

“Ma no!” Drake protested, before the door opened.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” the withered face that smiled up at him made him want to cry. She had aged so much since he last saw her.

“Ma, that’s disgusting!” Drake protested.

“You’re disgusting!” the boy’s mother spat, as she led him into the house, “Come on! Come in! Come in and enjoy the holidays!”

Several others were already gathered here. The older boys were looking at him with intolerable hatred. Probably only one looked at him with half interest, Drake’s closest brother in age. All of them looked much older than the littlest though, old enough to be his parents.

The house smelled of freshly baked cookies, pine and the chicken cooking in the oven. The reds and greens covered just about everything. The banister to the second floor was interwoven with leafy green. A great big pine had been brought into the den, decorated with so many ornaments that it had evolved into an eye sore.

There were a few more people there that Antoine did not know. There were several women, all apparently wives or girlfriends of the older boys. There were some small children as well, nephews of Drake’s.

It was a turnout so big that they could not fit in the house without elbowing each other. She was even elbowing through people as she led him through the crowd and to the new blue couch. He sat there as commanded and waited as he was told.

He sat there for a long while, as she weeded through the crowd. He watched her, trying to avoid any eye contact with the boy, or rather man that was eyeballing him sideways. He could only imagine what kind of words her sons would have for an old boyfriend who had returned to her life.

He was amazed that he had to wait so long before she returned. She placed a mug of mint cocoa into his hands, before she sat down with her own mug. She seemed worn down as she let out a breath and leaned against him. He did very little to reciprocate, now wanting to draw attention from somebody else, but he allowed her the affectionate closeness.

She sighed again, “This is nice.”

“Yea,” he whispered, wishing he could be alone with her.

“I missed you, Anty,” she spoke softly.

“I missed you too, Roxie,” he smiled at her fondly.

He gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. He truly had missed her and it made his heart hurt to think of the time spent away from her. It only made his heart grow weary, needing time with the love of his life. He was glad to finally have this time with her, just to see her face and hear her voice. She was a reminder of love and the dream of family they had established long ago.

 

 

Eventually, it was time to serve dinner. Antoine joined her in the kitchen to set the table. The other women joined in the kitchen and they tried to chase him out.

He never understood the concept of making something a woman’s job or a man’s job. Preparing dinner seemed like something a family could enjoy together. He did not mind preparing dinner and setting the table for her guests.

He enjoyed setting the table, especially with the fancy silverware. He remembered buying this with her. He remembered how out of place she had felt, feeling like she could not afford any of the nice things and thus did not deserve them. He had had to pat her hand and assure her that they had plenty of money to spare.

Ever since he took the position at Reliable Excavation and Demolition, he had earned plenty to pay off some people who caused his family trouble before, to pay off all of her family debts, and set up some savings accounts for the younger boys.

He smiled fondly at the fork he was straightening as he thought about this. He was very proud of having provided so much for her and this family. He especially felt happy to have put her into a position of no longer having to work and being able to live in leisure.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as Drake entered the room. The young man stepped over to the table, wanting to claim a chair. Spy could see him glaring from the corner of his eye. He kept from making eye contact with him, wanting to avoid confrontation.

“Drake, sweetheart,” the boy’s mother put on a pleading tone, “Would you put drinks out for everybody?”

“Sure ma,” Drake sighed and rose from his seat to get milk and water from the fridge.

“Are you doing alright sweetheart? You seem a little out of it,” she asked, with worry.

“Sure ma,” Drake replied curtly, “I just got a headache is all.”

“Is it an injury?” the question came off of Antoine’s tongue before he could properly think about it.

The question got him a glare from the young man. He looked like he was going to try and tear out Antoine’s throat. He tried not to look too offended by the glare though, not giving Drake direct attention.

“None of your business!” Drake snapped at him.

“Calm down, he’s just showing concern,” one of the women interjected.

“Whatever,” Drake rolled his eyes.

“If it’s an injury, then perhaps you should see a doctor about it,” Antoine suggested. He was concerned about Drake’s well-being.

“It’s not an injury!” Drake snapped at him.

“You just need a little Tylenol,” his mother said in a loving tone.

“Sure ma,” Drake nodded, “That sounds fine.”

“I’ll get you some Tylenol and I’ll be back,” his mother headed up the stairs to fetch the medication.

“Thanks ma,” Drake called after her.

“Did you see the doctor, before you left?” Antoine pressed, hoping the boy would give him an irritated affirmative.

“Yes,” Drake sighed and rolled his eyes in exaggerated irritation.

“You did not have a concussion that might not have been fully healed? No aneurisms? No illnesses you could have caught before you got here?” he inquired, worried about the young man’s health.

“No, I’m fine! Leave off!” Drake snapped at him angrily.

“You might consider seeing a doctor in the morning,” Antoine suggested.

“I’m not going to a doctor in the morning! I’m not doing that!” Drake spat. He seemed like a snarling animal, ready to snap.

“Drake, settle down,” one of the women said calmly, “He is only concerned for your health. I, for one, am glad somebody is concerned. The kids could pick something up from you if you are carrying disease.”

“It’s not a disease, Gena!” Drake snapped angrily at her, “It’s just a headache! And you’re not helping with it.”

“A headache can mean many things,” Antoine explained, as he finished the placements on the table, “Illnesses, injuries…the doctors might have to test to find out what is wrong. The sooner you do so, the better.”

“I’m not doing that,” Drake repeated himself.

“So you said,” Antoine gave him a nod, letting him know he was heard.

“You should go with him,” another woman insisted, “It’s no good for a young man to come home sick, but it would be even worse if he went to work unable to function! Mister uh…” The woman turned to Antoine with inquiry in her eyes.

“Spy,” he offered.

“Mister…Spy…” she spoke hesitantly, with a furrowed brow, “You sound like a man who knows what he is talking about. How about you take him down to the doctor’s house tomorrow morning. He won’t be in his office, but I know where he lives. He can at least help with making sure Drake doesn’t have something serious.”

“It’s not serious!” Drake jumped up from his seat, “I’m not sick!”

“You could be sick,” the woman waved a rag at him, “You never know!”

“Yes, I do know! Shut up, Mary!” Drake snapped.

Gena stepped back into the conversation, “If you start coughing, do _not_ get it on my kids, Drake.”

“I just told you! I’m not sick!” Drake raised his voice.

“Keep your voice down,” Mary insisted, waving the rag at Drake again.

Another woman spoke up, “Drake, think of your mother. Do it for her. She worries about you. The best you can do is take care of your health.”

“Yea! And the best way to do that is to see a medical professional,” Gena nodded in agreement.

“I know how to take care of myself, Gena,” Drake insisted irritably.

“It won’t be too much of a hassle,” Mary added, “Besides, it’s not like you won’t go running tomorrow anyways.”

Gena laughed at that, “Everybody knows you’ll be outside running. You might as well run to the doctor’s house!”

“Mister Spy, won’t you please go with him? Make sure he actually goes to the good doctor’s house?” Mary pleaded.

“Shut up, Mary! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Drake raised his voice angrily.

“Drake!” the mother’s voice caught everybody’s attention as she returned to the kitchen. In one hand she had a bottle of pills she was going to give to Drake, in the other, she was holding a cute yellow rag with which to open the bottle.

“Ma…” Drake’s voice tapered off as he had nothing to say in his favor.

“I’m sorry, Roxie, we were discussing his health and it may have gone a little far,” Antoine offered in Drake’s defense.

“Shut up and stay out of this, Spy!” Drake spun around and pointed angrily at Antoine, “You don’t have any place in any of this! So stay out of it!”

“Drake, watch your tone!” Roxanne barked in frustration. Her face looked weary again, as she made her way across the kitchen. She opened the bottle and dropped some pills into the yellow rag.

“Ma, you can’t keep siding with this guy,” Drake approached his mother and lowered his voice, “You don’t know who he is. You don’t know what he really is. You don’t know what he is capable of.”

Roxanne was not listening to her son bad mouth Antoine, so she stepped right over his words, “I’m sorry, Drake. He has every right to be a part of this. As long as he is a part of my life, he will be a part of yours.”

“No way, ma. You can’t keep doing this,” Drake pleaded.

“Drake, sit down and take your pills,” Roxanne handed the rag to Drake.

“Ma! Please!” Drake begged.

“Sit down!” she barked.

Drake hastily took the rag with the pills and hurried back to the seat he was in before. He sat there quietly as Gena brought him a glass of milk to down the pills with. He quietly took them and sighed, as if they had taken immediate effect. His eyes finally rose and he glared at the Spy.

“I have just heard _enough_ of your bad mouthing,” Roxanne said, ruffling Drake’s hair in passing. She took the glass once Drake was finished and began rinsing it. “I don’t want to hear any more of that language in _my_ house, or hear you bad mouthing Anty. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, ma,” Drake responded begrudgingly. He turned his gaze down to the table, not daring to challenge his mother’s demands.

Antoine decided not to push it and stepped away from the kitchen. He would leave them be for now. Somehow, he found himself in a more uncomfortable position while he was gathered with the other eight boys and their families by the Christmas tree. None of them knew him well, nor liked him. At least, he used to get along well with Benjamin, but the second youngest would not talk much to him anymore. He probably did not recognize him with the mask on anyways, so it was probably for the best that he left that issue alone.

 

 

When the night was over and all of the guests had left or gone to sleep, Antoine was thankfully in the comfortable solitude of the master bedroom with his love. She slipped into a nightgown and slid into the sheets with him, scooting close for comfort and warmth. Boston’s streets were growing very cold on these wintry nights.

“Finally, some time for ourselves,” she whispered as she curled up against him.

“Peaceful,” he commented, as he wrapped an arm around her.

She let out a sigh. It was not a relaxed sigh though. This was the type of sigh that meant something. It primarily meant something was wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, cutting to the point of the issue.

She looked at him, her eyes shining like stars. No matter her age, her eyes remained the same. They had that same look that made his heart melt so many years ago.

“I wish you would tell me everything,” she said quietly.

“I do tell you everything,” he insisted.

“No you don’t,” she blinked slowly as she rejected his protest, “You don’t tell me things. Not like you used to.”

He furrowed his brow as he thought about it. It was true that he was a little more open with her in the past. He regretted that quite a bit. It was not that she was not a tight lipped woman, but that the walls were not so tight lipped. Nor was it good to worry his woman with knowing that he was away in dangerous places. It made her wary for him, and also weary as she spent many sleepless nights uselessly worrying about his safety and wellbeing.

“It would not help anything,” he insisted.

“Yes, but…this is different, Anty,” she pressed, with a slight whine in her tone of voice.

“How could this be any different?” he insisted, giving her a fond smile, “I have gone into more dangerous territory than this, and I always come back to you.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” she whined.

“Oh,” he blinked at her, trying to gather the possible meaning.

“It’s Drake in it now,” she said, giving him a worried look. It was the same look she gave him whenever he left for a long time. “I know our son went to the business,” she said, trying not to cry, “I know some of what he is involved in.”

He frowned, wishing he could divert her mind from this subject. Knowing Roxanne, she was too stubborn to be subjected to change of that kind. She would keep pushing the point until it was dead.

He let out a sigh, “He is safe. I watch out for him.”

“On an _enemy_ side?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes. She seemed so frustrated with the whole situation.

“Love, I told you that we cannot talk about it,” he insisted, in a quiet tone, “Drake should not be telling you anything either. That can get him into trouble.”

“I know…I just…” her voice cracked and she let out a sob.

He sighed again and pulled her into an embrace, “You know me. I’m a Spy. I have always been. I’m always looking out for our boy.”

“I know you’re doing…your best…but I’m left in the dark here,” she pleaded.

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. There was not much that he could do for her. His work had to keep him in secrecy. Every cost was there in their personal life, but given the young man’s hardy stubbornness – all of which he got from his mother – it was worth it to keep him safe.

“I can only promise you that he is safe no matter what,” he insisted.

“I wish you’d tell me the truth,” she sighed, “I wish I saw your true face. Not this…mask you put on. You’re a charming man in your own right, but you’re putting it on thick.”

“Oh come on!” he scoffed at her accusation.

“It’s true!” she pressed.

He fell silent for a while. She seemed content to be quiet as well. As they were thinking, he could feel her hand against his chest. She rubbed little circles there, gently trying to comfort him.

Finally, he made up his mind. He reached up and slipped a thumb under the balaclava. He pulled up the mask and slipped it from his head. He looked at her watching him. She seemed so enamored when he did this.

“I don’t want to worry you,” he told her softly, “But you don’t have to be worried. Our son is-”

She cut him off, “Your face…” Her fingers reached up to touch his cheeks and nose.

“What? Did I nick myself shaving?” he jested nervously. He had known something like this would probably come along.

“You haven’t aged past forty,” she gasped.

“Nonsense,” he protested, “I’ve aged!”

“Not like I have,” she touched her own face, “Anty?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes. His face had not changed since the day he first scanned into the company’s respawn program. He had had many injuries on his face, and some slight aging, but it was all undone once he died and went to respawn.

“Anty?” she pleaded for an explanation.

“The company has technology we cannot imagine,” he admitted.

“What kind of technology?” she asked him.

“The kind that keeps you alive, when you should be dead,” he explained, feeling somber. He had already wished for a chance to put her on the respawn machine. “It’s part of the program for workers. It keeps them alive. That’s how I know that Drake is okay.”

“Anty,” her eyes pleaded with him again.

“Yes?” he looked to her, feeling scared, sad and tired. He wanted to go to sleep and pretend that none of this conversation had happened.

“That’s not how you know that Drake is okay,” she insisted.

“I know,” he looked away, “But he won’t let me close to him.”

“You’re on different sides,” she pressed, “Maybe you should see about getting put on the same side. Can’t you do that?”

“M-maybe,” he kept his eyes on the ceiling, “I don’t know. I will see what I can do.”

“Please,” she wrapped her arms around him and laid her cheek on his chest, “I want to know my boys are okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt compelled to write about the relationship between Antoine and Scout's mother.  
> Sometimes, people don't look to new love, they want what they had before. They want what they can't have anymore.


	11. First Day on Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh's first day on the set...and he gets cut off for costume.

Hugh was up at early hours, ready for the day. He had already scoured the surrounding streets and found out about the closest shops. He managed to snag some cereals and milk from the local liquor store, and was munching on it as he read a paper he picked up at a stand on his way back.

It seemed that things had been rather busy in America. Everybody was buzzing about the elections, even though every Spy knew those were rigged to some degree. He knew the best likelihood was the man with the most money, or the best maneuverability in the race of power. That was to say, if he could harass and intimidate other candidates out of the running.

The article he was reading was talking about a man called Obama. He was apparently becoming a favorite among the Democratic party. He shook his head though. There was no way a man like him would win. The power struggle would be out of his favor.

He turned the page to another article, looking for something more interesting to read about. He was not interested in more campaign slogans and information about the presidential election. He wanted something to keep him afloat on his happy mood.

When it came time to go to work, he was dressed and ready for the day. The cool morning air gave promise that today was fresh. The smell of the bakery down the street only gave him a renewed hope.

He was standing by the street when his ride arrived. The man driving it was hurried as he opened the door for Hugh. Hugh barely responded to any of the man’s jabbering. He just got into the car and ignored him as he got back onto the road, headed to the studio.

The man went on and on, talking about something. Hugh was not paying attention though. He was studying the street side shops and the windows. His eyes glazed over the various colors and the paintings on the signs. He noted the wordplays and the puns that had been made for the sake of attracting attention for a company or small business.

When they arrived, he made haste to find the proper studio. He needed to find his way to his new place of work. Lucky for him, the driver remembered to give him his ID card, an identification placard that told the security guards that he belonged here. He found himself at Studio 7 and hurried inside. It was a large building with many people busy getting ready. It seemed that the whole set on stage was ready, with lights already prepped on its center.

“There he is!” the Director he had met the day before exclaimed, “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long,” he replied, trying to sound witty.

“We’re just dealing with a few setbacks for today’s recording,” the Director explained to him and everybody listening, “So we are starting a little late, but try to stick to the backstage area so we can get started quickly once everything is ready.”

“So, I’m not late then?” Hugh jested, despite being on time.

“Not at all!” the Director patted his back with a hearty laugh. He pulled the Spy closer to himself as he turned to his audience of what was apparently the rest of the cast. “Everyone! I would like for you to meet the new Spy!”

Hugh felt awkward but managed to play off the nervousness of being put on the spot by waving to the others and feigning comfort. “Hello,” he said, hoping to play down his accent just a bit for his new coworkers.

“He is a genuine Spy! One of the veterans!” the Director said excitedly.

“Great, now I can focus on my part,” a man said, grinning and pointing to himself with two thumbs.

“What is your part?” Hugh asked, then immediately regretted the question as the man looked at him.

The stunned and hurt look on the man’s face sent Hugh reeling. It was not as if he could have guessed what part the man was playing though. “I’m…playing…the Demoman?” the man offered with frustrated hesitance.

Hugh frowned, unable to respond. The man looked nothing like a Demoman. Starting with his build, which held nothing of the stance of a man who had worked his entire life, he looked nothing like a physically capable mercenary. Then there was everything else. Most Demomen came from certain clans in Scotland, being among the best and most highly trained demolitions experts in the world, with just enough craziness in their minds to throw themselves at war.

“Poor Neil,” a woman spoke sarcastically, “Can’t be identified as the Demoman.”

“It’s ‘cause he’s not black,” said another woman.

“I knew I should have worn the eyepatch,” Neil groaned.

“I’m…sorry?” Hugh hesitated as he watched these three bicker.

“Don’t worry about them,” somebody else drew his attention away. He was immediately drawn to the smiling face before him. “Name’s Nathan,” the younger man offered his hand in greeting, “I play the Scout. I look forward to working together!”

See, now this man looked the part. Sure he was a little softer, without as much muscle build. That could be forgiven though, as the specs for the young man were more accurate. The way he talked and moved was just exaggerated enough for one of those athletic Scouts. He probably could have guessed it was his part just from seeing him move and talk.

“The feeling is mutual,” Hugh nodded.

“You need any help, just let me know,” Nathan added, still smiling.

“Mind helping me understand…this?” he lowered his voice and gestured in as secret a manner as he could towards the man and the two women talking.

“Oh them? Don’t worry about them,” Nathan insisted with a dismissive gesture, “Up until this season, Neil’s been playing whatever parts could not be filled. So he was in and out on being the Spy for a while. He was even the Scout before I came on. Sometimes he fills in for me on my sick days.”

“I see,” Hugh hesitated uncertainly.

“He is just excited that he finally has a solid part,” Nathan explained, “Then the brunette is Jennifer. She plays the Nurse. They decided to add that class in for the dramatic effect. Don’t move in on her, unless you want to create drama with Medic. The Medic and the Nurse are supposed to be having a fling without any of the others knowing.”

“Uh…alright,” Hugh nodded, showing that he was following along.

“The blonde one is Alexis. She plays the Pyro, and also does the voice for the Scout’s mother for the telephone scenes,” Nathan started chuckling, “There was one season where the Spy and Scout’s ma were having an affair. It was really crazy because Neil is bad at being seductive and we don’t show Alexis on screen out of the Pyro suit.”

“I’m not bad at seduction! Who told you that? Why would you say that?” Neil shouted at Nathan angrily.

“What?” Nathan put his hands up defensively. He was definitely like a Scout. “I’m just saying! It’s not like we cut that storyline halfway through the season for no reason!”

“You didn’t have to tell _him_ that!” Neil exclaimed, gesturing to the Spy with a bob of his head.

“Sorry that somebody decided to catch him up on the series, _Neil_!” Nathan said, a little passive aggressively, “If you ask me, it’s high time we had more veterans around. Nobody does the part justice like a veteran.”

Neil turned away from Nathan haughtily, “Veterans aren’t all that good at improvisational drama.”

“Improvisational drama?” Hugh looked to the young man who played the Scout.

“Oh yea, it’s the way we do things here,” Nathan explained, “They give us an outline to follow. We basically go with that.”

“You improvise everything?” Hugh pressed, a little unsure of how to work with that.

“Sometimes they give us scripted things,” Nathan admitted, “It’s usually to up the drama for certain dynamics.”

“Alright! Everybody, backstage! We have the audience coming in shortly!” the Director announced.

Hugh followed as everybody else started heading through a door at the side of the stage. They funneled through the door into the back, where more stage crew were assembled and working. There were cameramen everywhere, with headphones like they were all Scouts, only these men and women had clipboards.

“I hear the new Sniper is going to be a veteran too,” Nathan added excitedly.

“Is that so?” Hugh busied himself with getting a good visual look at everybody else he would be working with. There were a lot of people to get to know.

“Oh! And uh…I think me and you, as the Scout and the Spy, we’re supposed to bicker a lot. I’m usually around for the comedic relief. It helps the audience to deal with large amounts of drama. So uh…when I step on, be ready for riffing and stuff. You can handle that right? Don’t like…take anything I say personally or literally or anything like that. It’s all part of the act.”

“Got it,” the Spy nodded, “You seem to be a natural.”

“Oh really? Thanks!” Nathan grinned, “What makes you say that?”

“You’re as annoying and attention needy as a Scout,” Hugh answered. After a moment he gave a smile, mostly to test the waters of changing his mind about what he had said.

Nathan started laugh, “Ah! You! You’re gonna do just fine! I can’t wait to get on stage! Granted, I think if they let me, I would turn this entire series into a comedy.”

“It would be better quality,” Jennifer jumped into their conversation.

“Thanks Jen! Glad to see somebody recognizes talent!” Nathan grinned happily.

“No no,” Jennifer gestured dismissively at him, “You’re the crux of pain in this entire set up, but the drama? It’s so garish.”

“You believe it is garish? Then why do you continue working on it?” Hugh inquired.

“Hollywood isn’t nice to brunettes my age,” the woman shrugged.

Hugh raised an eyebrow, “How old _are_ you?”

“Twenty seven,” Jennifer answered, “But I heard Alexis just had her thirty fourth birthday!” She spoke in a manner as if the very thought of the woman’s age was scandalous.

“You’re mere children,” Hugh scoffed, “You’re of the ripe age for acting. Why would Hollywood not want you in their shows?”

“Once you hit a certain age,” Jennifer shrugged, “Men in Hollywood decide what female actresses get to do. If it makes their dicks hard, then it works. If she doesn’t make his dick hard _enough_ then she’s out.”

“What about parts for older women?” he blinked at her, “Are there _no_ older women in television these days?”

“Well yea sure!” Nathan interjected.

“Yea, that play the bitter bitchy wife,” Jennifer offered with a snide tone.

“Places everybody!” the Director called out, “We’re on in fifteen!”

Oh great, another count down. That was just what he needed. The thought of the Administrator counting down from respawn just sent a disgusting shiver up his spine. He had spent so much time listening to that old hag’s voice, now he just wanted to never hear of her again.

“Okay listen,” Nathan handed him a script, pulling him away from the others, “You don’t have a lot in your part, since you’re new. You’re going to enter and you’re mostly just going to be there. We’ll be shooting the third scene when we get on. That’s a scene between Medic and Nurse. Don’t intervene, just be in the background of stuff. When the Director gestures like this, get off the stage.” Nathan moved his hands in an odd waving gesture.

“Okay, but what are my lines?” Hugh asked.

“Just…um…make them up,” Nathan shrugged, “You won’t have any room for speaking until later. After lunch, we’ll be shooting the part where the new Spy and new Sniper get the spotlight.”

“Hopefully that doesn’t come until late,” he grumbled, “I’ve had about enough of Snipers.”

Nathan laughed, “I’m sure you’ll like the new guy. I met him yesterday. He’s going to be joining us later though. Says he’s dealing with the sniffles from the flight.”

“Right,” he turned to look over the others.

 

 

He spent most of his time in the backstage area watching the monitors. They had actors for almost every part. However, there was a Medic, a Heavy, and an Engineer. The Medic and Heavy were both fairly stoic when they were in the backstage area, waiting their turns, but once they got onto stage they were like professional actors. Heavy was not great at English, but he seemed to just fill the space with as much charisma as he needed to.

Perhaps it was the charismatically dramatic personalities they were working with. The Medic worked closely with the woman playing the Nurse all of the time. Her behavior on stage was not exactly witty, but it was very bouncy and easy to follow for the audience.

The fact that there was an audience seemed to surpass mention when it came to telling Hugh about how things worked. He could not see an audience, but perhaps it was prerecordings of cheering and laughing. Then again, each time seemed just a little different, too different to be the same recordings.

All he could do was watch the monitors and breathe. Every moment felt like it crept closer to his doom. Then again, he did not know when he was needed, so he might as well stop fretting. Maybe he could just hide back here and they would forget about him. It was not as if they had a permanent Spy before.

His thoughts were cut off and his heart dropped into his stomach as somebody came towards him. They were not just coming towards him either, as they had this look of determination about them. The very way their feet stepped made it clear that they were aiming for him and that they had a clear and decisive path that they were taking with him.

“Spy! You’re on in ten minutes! The director would like for you to review this page here,” they handed him a piece of paper as they guided him towards a door, “And then you’ll be up!”

He fumbled for a moment with a bit of hesitant confusion, “Wait, but I don’t-”

“Just hang tight here. I’ll go tell them you’re ready for your introduction, and I’ll be back to let you on set!” they explained.

“But, I don’t-” Hugh never had a chance, as they hurried off to do their job.

He was left there alone with the paper. He hesitated with uncertainty as to whether he should follow it to the letter. He started reading over it though, trying to nail it into rock in his mind. If nothing else, he would have this guideline in his head.

“You’ve all heard rumors about a Spy, right?” a voice on the stage beyond the door caught his attention. There was cheering in response to this. “Well, they were true! All true! Except for the one that claimed he is the actual James Bond.”

“Who the hell is James Bond?” he muttered to himself.

“Help me out in giving a big warm California welcome to: _**the Spy**_!” the voice announced loudly and boisterously.

“That’s you!” suddenly that staff member was standing right behind him, “Get in there! Go go go!”

The door was opened and he was ushered onto the stage. He followed along the path that seemed clearest for him. Beyond the lights on the stage, which made the area very warm. He could already feel a film of sweat forming on his brow beneath the balaclava he was wearing. The pressure of being stared at only made everything feel much worse.

“Uh oh! Seems costume department forgot a detail!” he was surprised to see Neil being bouncy and boisterous as ever.

He faltered, stopping a ways away from Neil. He tried to look out beyond the lights, but it was a little difficult to make out individual faces. Instead, they made a mob of faces, like marching soldiers coming down a steep slope. Their teeth were showing and they looked determined. All of their eyes showed white, as their gazes pointed to him, bringing him not only into the center stage of the light’s focus, but the center of the audience’s attention.

“So Spy! Tell us something,” Neil walked over, with a big cocky grin on his face.

As soon as Neil got close enough to smell, he knew what he was going to say, “If you are going for the full sensory experience of a Demoman, I suggest you lay off the fruity cologne and actually drink a man’s beer.”

The audience roared with laughter, then they cheered for him. He glanced up at them, both pleased with himself and pleased with the crowd. It felt a little easier to stand there in the center of attention, now that he could see that they were smiling.

However, Neil was not smiling. Neil was growing agitated, with a fake smile trying to cover his anger at the commentary. He was shifting from foot to foot, a sure sign that the man had some energy to burn off, likely from the agitation.

“Not what I was going to say,” Neil chuckled nervously.

“You did say to tell you something,” Hugh offered. He paused, listening as the audience laughed with the small voice in his mind that reminded him that he was doing a fine job.

“I was going to say, that you should tell us something! Tell us something about yourself,” Neil insisted, gesturing to the audience.

Hugh turned to them, pausing to lick his lip. He studied their faces, trying to memorize details. He compartmentalized the details, summarizing their general appearances. All but two of them were adults, though one of those two had a questionable face that could look younger than he was. They were a majority of Caucasian Americans, with one small family of African Americans. A few of the faces among the crowd were easily South American by origin, though the rest were a mix that led to the determination that they were white. The majority of these people were women too, and about half of the men were dressed up in some form of clothing that made them out to be very…what was the word? Flowery? Obnoxious? Gay? Perhaps they were gay, that was probably it.

“Well,” he hesitated on his words.

Something about himself? What something? What about himself could he tell? Obviously, he should not tell the truth. Still, what insignificant detail could he throw in, without having to worry about it harming him later?

“Hey! Hey!” Nathan came onto the stage. He was waving his arms and got the crowd cheering again, “I got it! Spy, why don’t you tell us where you’re from? You sound like you’re from France. You like croissants and stuff?”

“Well, yes I am originally from France,” deep inside his chest he could feel his heart leaping around, despite his cool and collected tone on the outside, “I grew up in France, but I have been living in America for many years now.”

“Which states have you lived in?” Nathan was practically standing in front of Neil, somewhat erasing him from the attention of the cameras.

The look on Neil’s face bespoke of the ire in his soul. Hugh had half a mind to warn Nathan of what was likely to happen. The other half reminded himself that he too was drawing up that dramatic feeling of anger from Neil.

“I have been living in Colorado for years now,” he explained, “Though I did spend a few months in Toronto.”

Nathan laughed, “Spy! That’s not a state!”

“Seems the Spy isn’t _all American_!” Neil had a prodding tone that got the crowd rearing and booing.

“Okay! Okay!” Nathan put his arms up, gesturing in an exaggerated manner, “Glad we got all our noises out! It’s about time to start the shooting again. We’re going to be hearing from Spy!”

“Oh sure! What’s a Spy got to say then?” Neil folded his arms as he got into a natural rhythm of bander with Nathan.

“I’m not sure,” Nathan gave a big shrug, “Why don’t we ask the fella himself? I mean, he’s a _real_ and genuine veteran from the show in Colorado! I’ll bet some of you watched that stuff! Huh?”

Some cheers went up, catching Hugh’s attention. Was it so likely that some of these people might have watched him on the show before? It was an interesting thought, but one that he had to file away as Neil and Nathan turned their attentions to him.

“We’re looking forward to seeing what you can do Spy,” Nathan said, a big smile spread across his face, “So let’s all give it up for the Spy! And we’ll get started momentarily!”

That was when Hugh’s eye caught the Director. He was grinning from ear to ear. One of his assistants standing nearby had cue cards. The man was setting on down that read, “Hype the people for the Spy.” So that must have been why Nathan stepped in.

The new cue card went up that read, “Enter from battle. Meet the Spy.”

He gestured to himself, questioning the cue cardsman. A hand touched his arm and he turned to see a staff member. He gestured to a corner, just out of sight of the camera. He stepped into the spot as directed and waited, watching as a fake door meant to replicate the door of a respawn opened. It was a terrible fake, moving slower than any respawn door would. In fact, if a real respawn door was that slow, a man would die of bleeding, or get cornered by the enemy.

Every man of every class filed in, moving with heavy stepped and huffing as if they had had a tiring day. A few people started cheering and hooting upon seeing their favorite actors. That was when some staff people had to shush them, quieting them down so that the gathering actors could get their lines in.

“Boy, that was something,” the Engineer said. His voice spoke of a long time spent in the rural areas of Texas. “They must have had their ammunition packed to God knows where!” the man said, with a bit of awe in his tone.

“Ja, it would not have been so difficult if _some_ people stuck around where a doctor could actually do his work!” the Medic piped in, a little too cheery for what was supposed to be an irritable line.

Hugh shut his eyes for a moment to remind himself. He was supposed to stand off camera. They would come in from one end, and then he would come in from another. They would say a few lines, then he would deliver the line given.

“Doctor made it very clear where his loyalty lies,” the Heavy Weapons Guy was laying the rich Russian accent, laced with anger to fuel strong a war tank on thick.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?!” the doctor followed at the Heavy’s heels.

“Loyalty is not with Heavy,” the man growled, keeping his attention on the door to the locker he was opening.

“Fellas! No need to bicker! We all know who carried this team today!” Nathan’s act was only made more comically accurate by the Scout uniform he was wearing.

The Pyro made some intentionally muffled noises. It was not the typical muffled-by-the-mask noises. These were intentionally meant to be muffled. It sounded very strange to Hugh.

“You should have stayed on task, you halfwit!” Neil declared, glaring with the one eye that was not covered by an eyepatch at Nathan.

Hugh took this as his opportunity. It was time to step in and say his given line. He took a breath, counting his steps as he made his way towards the center of the stage.

Slowly, the others looked up at him. They seemed to take his appearance well. Still, only the Engineer, Heavy and Medic seemed to understand the looks that mercenaries would have upon seeing a new Spy. The wariness in their eyes was very telling.

“Am I to believe that this is the so called team of mercenaries I have been appointed to?” he asked, putting as much lilt in his tongue as drama demanded.

“Cut!” the Director called out.

He flinched in surprise, while the others’ shoulders sagged in remorse. He looked to the Director, already wondering what he had done wrong. Surely he had delivered that line almost perfectly.

“Who put this guy in a blue suit?” the Director called out.

“Uhh…” Hugh hesitated. Was he serious? Had he actually not noticed the color of the Spy’s suit? Not that Hugh had any other color to use at the moment.

“I uh…pointed that out earlier,” Nathan said pointedly, calming down his exaggerated behavior from before.

“Lucille! Costume! Get him to costume!” the Director shouted angrily, “God damn! Why is it so difficult to work with this?”

A hand grabbed his arm and dragged him off the stage to the back. He was so confused, but he followed. They went out of the building, to a back area where trailers were parked. He was hesitant, given his recent history with trailers and campers. He was not keen to get trapped inside of one. Then again, that dangerous man was not around.

He decided to follow the woman’s lead as she brought him inside to show him a fully furnished trailer with a full set of costumes. It was surprisingly big. The couch was very roomy, with the table’s placement giving plenty of leg room. There were pillows to make it comfortable as well. There was even a vanity, with a tall mirror to help somebody get ready. It was at the back of the trailer where she showed him the costumes.

They were mostly red suits, some of them covered in fake blood and tears. The rest were odd hats, strange jackets, and items he would have had to buy from the Mann Co shop in order to wear for himself. Some devious part of him wanted to stuff much of these items into a briefcase and sneak them to his apartment.

“Okay okay…” the woman said nervously. She shuffled through the clothes and finally pulled out a plain red suit. “You’ll wear this get up,” she said, “And I think we should lose the balaclava. I can get somebody to do your hair.”

“N-no!” he exclaimed without hesitation.

“No?” she blinked at him, “I think we need a decent headshot for the opening scene of the Spy.”

“Non,” he shook his head, quickly concocting a plan to divert her ideas, “The Spy’s balaclava is a poignant part of his attire. It is worn with dignity. It is a trademark of the class, non? Removing it would be to remove the identity of the Spy.”

“Right, but your hair and stuff isn’t going to show,” the woman frowned.

“It’s of no consequence,” Hugh shrugged, “You wanted a Spy on this set, you get a Spy on this set. I don’t work without the mask.”

“Alright, fine,” she sighed, looking up at the top of his head, “Wear a hat or something. Hmm…” She turned back to the closet and started digging around. “Here,” she turned and handed him a red chapeau.

It was gaudy and big. It looked like it was something worn in perhaps the late seventeenth century? He was never good at history, but he was sure it was the kind of hat that Hollywood used in flicks of historical France.

“Too gaudy,” he protested.

“Okay…” she dug through the closet again, “This?”

She handed him a top hat. It looked battered and worn. He used to have a hat like this, but he had long since decided that it was never fashionable to begin with. It was not something he could start in the show with.

“To look like an impoverished man who wants to be rich?” he inquired, gesturing dismissively at the hat, “Pass.”

“Okay,” she turned back to the closet.

He stepped closer to get a better look at the hats that were available. He reached in with a cheeky grin. He pulled out a hat and set it upon his head. No matter if it classed with the blue. It was a nice hat.

“Um, I don’t think-” she protested, falling silent when he waved off her words.

“A hat to kill for,” he said, straightening it on his head, “You want a hat worn? I’ll wear this hat. Now please. A moment of privacy so that I may change colors.”

“Um…” she hesitated, staring at him, “Okay. Let’ me know if you need anything. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because he needed to move away from stage for a bit.


	12. Meet the Sp- Sniper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy meets the Sniper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There has been a recall on information in chapter 6. The name Sniper used was a stand in while I was away from my notes. (I was writing when I was not with my notes)  
> Sniper used the name Xavier Hackley.

He adjusted the tie one last time, before he checked his entire attire in the mirror. He was looking just as sharp as always. There was not much difference from his usual suit and tie. The only difference was that it was red, reflecting Reliable Excavation and Demolition.

Not that it mattered anyways. He never really had loyalty to Builders League United. Any noticeable _loyalty_ had for Blutarch’s team was just him doing his job. There was nothing more to any of this anyways. There was no war to be won. It could never be won, despite the miserable amount of time he remembered spending on a losing team.

He shuddered to think about it. How miserable they had all been. And somebody had the gall to pretend the Administrator was sending them beer for Christmas? To what end were they doing that? To get them so drunk that they would start fighting each other?

The thoughts just made him feel angry, so he decided not to think about it. Besides, there had come a great change from that losing streak. He smiled as he remembered how one Christmas party had turned into a romance with the Soldier.

He sighed, a smile painted on his face as he remembered the man. The Soldier had always seemed like the stereotypically loud American, but he was a softer man. He was shy and vulnerable.

“Alright, time to focus,” he sighed, pulling his mind out of memories. Now was not the time to think of memories in Colorado.

A knock came at the door, “Spy, they’re calling for you. You’re on in ten minutes!”

“Just a moment!” he called, snatching up the hat.

He turned to the mirror as he placed it on his head. He carefully straightened it atop his head. He needed to be sure everything would go according to plan. Everything had to look good for his big debut.

He huffed as he looked at himself in the mirror. “Okay, here we go,” he said to his reflection.

Here he was, in a place he never thought he would be. Many people dreamed of being actors like this. He was not exactly a big movie star, but he was about to step out onto a stage like nothing many others had ever seen.

“You can do this,” he told his reflection, “You are a professional actor. You’ve fooled killers and conmen. You’ll be fine.” He smiled and nodded in farewell to his reflection for confidence.

He stepped out of the trailer and blinked against the brilliant sunlight. He let the door close behind him as he walked down the steps. He turned to the woman and smiled.

“I am ready!” he told her.

“Good! Great! Let’s get you to the stage! Your part will be coming up soon!” she said hastily.

“Let’s go!” he nodded, following her back into the building.

His shoes clicked loudly against the floor as he followed her across the concrete parking area. He glanced around, staying as wary as ever. His instincts never let up, as he kept an open eye for any suspicious activity or dangerous creeps.

The door opened, drawing his attention away from the sunlit parking lot. He blinked as his eyes adjusted. He paused as the door closed behind him. He needed a moment to really take in the whole room. Outside it was so bright, but in here, the luminescence was too dim.

“Spy! You ready?” Nathan suddenly appeared in front of him.

He blinked in surprise, “Yea. Oh, yes sure.”

“You look good in red!” Nathan patted his arm, “Very spiffy!”

“I look good in any color, boy,” he said, with a gentle gesture of adjusting the cuff of his jacket.

Nathan laughed, “Either way, you look set to go! Looking forward to seeing you on stage!”

“We’ll see,” he gave Nathan a nod.

“Oh man! You should have seen the Sniper!” Nathan went on, “You are totally winning at this. I think you’re going to be at the top.”

“You think so? Wait,” he paused, trying to process what Nathan had said, “You said the Sniper? The Sniper is here?”

“Yea, he’s on stage now, I think,” Nathan pointed to the door to the stage.

“I see,” he wondered what kind of person _this_ Sniper would be. He would probably be an upgrade from what he was dealing with before.

“Guy nearly pissed his pants,” Nathan laughed, “They’re probably still having a field day with him!”

“I’m sure they are,” Hugh nodded, “For now, I should concentrate.”

“I dunno where they got this guy,” Nathan kept on going, barely hearing what Hugh had said, “He’s like…shy and shit. I don’t got a problem with shy people, but like…how do you even work like that? How do you do being an actor when you’re too shy to come up with something to say?”

“I’m not sure,” Hugh admitted, though he tried to focus on what was coming. He needed to deliver his line well so that the Director would not make him do it again.

“Nice hat by the way,” Nathan’s comment diverted his attention.

“Yes, thank you,” he smiled, touching his hat with a bit of admiration for it. Perhaps he liked having a bit of stylish flair a bit too much. It was already giving him ideas of what outfits he should wear for their next shooting.

“So anyways, this guy is totally bogus,” Nathan went back to his original train of thought without missing a beat, “He isn’t even focused! How is the guy supposed to do any of this?”

“I’m not sure,” Hugh commented, just to give the man something to hint that he was listening, “How do you do it?”

“I do it cause I’m totally freaking awesome!” Nathan pointed to himself with a huge grin on his face.

“I’m sure you are,” Hugh suppressed a chuckle at that. The more he heard Nathan talk, the more he thought the man sounded like a Scout.

“You probably are used to improvising and shit, but this guy’s wasted,” Nathan shook his head.

“He is drunk?” Hugh reeled at that implication.

“Ah, no…” Nathan assured him, “He’s not drunk. I mean like…he doesn’t have a chance! The guy isn’t going to make it through the first episode’s filming! He can’t come up with any lines. We have to make extra cue cards for him. The guy isn’t even aware of what’s going on right now!”

“I’m sure he is just nervous,” Hugh shrugged it off, “First day at a new job. Everything is new and different. I don’t know if you know this, but working at most of Mann Co’s shows is a lot different than this…dramatic series. It is…a little more true to life, despite what people might have you think.”

“Like what?” Nathan pressed.

“Well, I have on more than one occasion taken real concussions on screen,” he said. It was not a fib, given how many times he had been injured while he was working for Builders League United as a mercenary. “Instead of calling it a day, I went with my lines with real blood on my suit.”

“Oh man, really? Holy shit, that’s badass!” Nathan said excitedly.

“Yes,” Hugh smiled with a sense of victory for himself.

“Hey, you watch wrestling?” Nathan asked.

“Hardly,” Hugh shook his head, “I don’t spend my time in front of a television.”

Nathan laughed, “You probably should! I mean…like a little bit. You don’t have to spend all your free time on it. But like, there’s so much stuff you’re missing out on!”

“No, I think I’m fine without it,” he said. Frankly, he did not want to come across another show with what was probably mercenaries unaware of the reality of their situation.

“Okay then,” Nathan shrugged.

“You have an awful lot to talk about,” Hugh commented.

“Yea, I get that a lot,” Nathan chuckled, “I mean, not that _exactly_ , but you get what I mean. I talk a lot and that’s what gets me by in this impromptu stuff!”

“Good,” Hugh nodded, “I’ll take notes.”

“Nah,” Nathan chuckled at that, “You’re playing the Spy! You’re supposed to be all mysterious and shit. I’m the Scout. I’m the comedic factor, you know?”

“What does that make me?” Hugh inquired, with a raised eyebrow.

“You know! Mysterious?” Nathan offered, still smiling cheerfully.

“Right,” a small itch started to creep up on him, a craving for a cigarette. He longed for one right about now.

“Anyways, this Sniper guy is so freaking out of his league,” Nathan went on explaining.

“Yes, you said this,” Hugh rolled his eyes, growing irritable with the repetition.

“I don’t even think the guy realizes it,” Nathan added.

“Cut the guy some slack,” Jennifer walked over, fixing a strand of hair by her ear, “It’s his first day on the job.”

“Yea, but like he stalled!” Nathan exclaimed.

“Haven’t you ever stalled?” Jennifer responded.

“No!” Nathan threw his arms up in the air in exasperation, “I’ve never stalled! I’ve messed up a million times, but no I’ve never stalled. I’ll own up to _all_ of my mistakes, but I’ve never once stalled on camera!”

“It’s not like he can practice,” Jennifer rolled his eyes, “He has probably never done this.”

“Why? Why would they get a guy who has never done this before?” Nathan asked.

“Don’t you remember how it was when the Engineer came on?” Jennifer chuckled.

“Yea, but he didn’t stall like _this_ guy!” Nathan proclaimed, “This guy isn’t even in the same league. Engie at least figured out his shit quickly.”

“Either way, I think he’s better for the part than the Engineer is for his,” Jennifer said a bit snidely.

“Why do you think that?” Hugh interjected.

“I just think he is,” Jennifer raised her head, lifting her nose haughtily.

“Jennifer just has hots for the Sniper guy,” Nathan said, folding his arms over his chest.

“I do not!” Jennifer folded her arms beneath her breasts. That was an unfortunate thing for her to do, considering she was well endowed.

Hugh rolled his eyes and turned his eyes to the door to the stage. It would be his time soon. He was not sure how long it had been since he started waiting here for them to call him on. It had to have been more than ten minutes already though. Surely, they were running behind if they were keeping him waiting this long.

“I’ll bet he can actually aim a gun,” Jennifer said, cocking her hips to one side, “Unlike _some_ people!”

 

“Are you unable to handle a gun?” Hugh asked her.

She blinked at him in surprise, “Oh…um…I’ve never held one!”

“That’s unfortunate,” Hugh shrugged.

“Yea, we’re not really supposed to handle any real guns,” Nathan chuckled, “It’s part of our contracts. Safety precautions and stuff. Shit happens with weapons, you know? No boss man wants to find out he lost his shit because his employee accidentally shot his face off!”

“You cannot _shoot your face off_ , Scout,” Hugh did not realize the slip until after it came out.

“Ooh hey! You called me Scout,” Nathan said, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Ew,” Jennifer rolled her eyes, “You might as well be a Scout. I hear they’re annoying.”

“I’m just getting into character,” Hugh insisted, covering for himself.

It was easy to think of Nathan as a Scout in his own right. He was not a Scout in the sense of being a fighter or a mercenary. It was more of the attitude and the way he carried himself. Perhaps it was even the dramatic way he spoke and acted around him.

“Good thinking!” Nathan nodded enthusiastically.

Jennifer scoffed, “While you two have your circle jerk, I’m going to go get ready.” She left, leaving the two of them alone.

Hugh tried to avert his attention again. He needed to focus. He needed to remember his line. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on it. He tried to feel how he would step out onto the stage. He envisioned his facial expression, with a placid look that would give away nothing.

His eyes snapped open upon hearing somebody call for him. All of the other actors had disappeared. They were probably already on set. Somebody opened the door for him and he stepped out onto the stage. He followed directions, going into the corner he was appointed to.

He was almost immediately diverted from his task when his eye caught the crowd. There were some cheers and a few people even waved to him. They were not just cheering, they were cheering for him.

He put on a small smile and waved back at them. They were so excited to see him come back onto the stage. They must have been sitting here for hours during the shoot. Here, they were finally going to see the Spy work.

He did not need pressure. He did not need pressure of any kind, let alone pressure from people counting on him to make a good impression. It was bad enough that the Director was counting on him and that Nathan was rooting for him.

He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he was a professional. He did not need luck to get through this. He did not need any scripts to tell him how to act as the Spy. He just had to be his class, the Spy.

Somebody counted down, letting everybody know that the camera was recording, before the respawn door prop started opening. He was not sure that they could make the thing go any slower, without making the crowd wait there for an hour for it to rise. Nathan was the first to duck under it, running in excitedly. The other mercenaries filed in after him and the crowd started cheering.

Staff members quickly quieted them down. They were supposed to hush to let the actors get their work done. This scene would have a serious tone, after all.

“I could sure use a vacate!” the Engineer put his hands on his hips and shifted his feet, “What a day! They must have had their ammunition packed to God knows where!” the man said, with a bit of awe in his tone.

“Ja, it would not have been so difficult if some people stuck around where a doctor could actually do his work!” the Medic rushed through the line tiredly.

Hugh remembered him delivering that line before. He said it with a cheerier demeanor. While tired worked better, it did not have the same emotional drive. The doctor was tiring down from the long day of acting.

“Doctor make clear,” the Heavy’s accent was thick, but it was his understanding of English that seemed to be dumbed down, “Loyalties are not with Heavy.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?!” the doctor followed at the Heavy’s heels.

“Loyalty is not with Heavy!” the big man spoke loudly as he opened a locker prop.

“Fellas! Fellas! We won! No need to be so bitter about how it happened! Just be glad it did! We won, and that’s all that matters. And guess who carried this team?” Nathan’s big cocky smile stole everybody’s attention.

“If you say anything remotely close to identifying yourself as having sat on that point and kept it from the enemy, then I’ll be sure to introduce you to a new world of hurt, boy,” the Engineer gave a little shake of the wrench.

Much of his bright and wholesome act gone, the man seemed much more like himself. His words just sounded more natural this time around. He noted that, figuring the man was probably more used to talking with mercenaries than being sweet and kind to people, the way this show demanded he be.

“You should have stayed on task, you halfwit!” Neil declared, glaring with the one eye that was not covered by an eyepatch at Nathan.

“Am I to believe that this is the so called team of mercenaries I have been appointed to?” Hugh made his way into center stage to draw attention.

“Oy!” an Australian’s grunt caught everyone’s attention. Everyone turned and a few people moved out of the way. The Australian rose to his full height and looked down his nose at Hugh.

The very height of the man was intimidating on its own. The breadth of his shoulder did not give off the idea of strength though. That taken into consideration, nor did his muscles. Everything about him just looked lanky and clunky.

Still, there was no mistaking the Sniper. He did not even look like he had changed out of the attire he had worn before. Being a RED Sniper, he was in his own element. Perhaps acting on the fly was not quite his element though, given what Nathan was telling him before.

If only the young man had said something else. Hugh was fighting every instinct to back up as the Sniper came forward. All he could think about was how Nathan could have warned him and this confrontation could have been avoided. He could have been out of here by now. He could have been at the apartment packing to flee back to Toronto.

“You!” he spoke weakly.

The grimacing expression suddenly broke as the Sniper smiled at him, “Hello love!”

“Cut!” the Director called out, “That’s a wrap! Fantastic job!”


	13. Stressful End of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Hugh's day is not quite what he was hoping for.

The dreadful and terrifying revelation brought Hugh to a standstill. His heart was racing to get out though. He felt that it might leap from his neck into his mouth.

He felt a cold wave hit him. It shook him from his stupor. He looked around and found Neil and Nathan staring at him and the Sniper.

“That was unexpected,” Neil commented.

“No kidding,” Nathan agreed with disbelief on his face.

“Thank you everyone for coming!” Jennifer announced to the audience, “That’s all the time we have for filming today.”

Nathan and the others moved into a line. Hugh followed his lead. His feet felt like rocks though, too heavy to lift. He was hyper-focused on the presence by his shoulder, the man who seemed like a supernatural spirit.

“From everybody on the show, we would like tot hank you for being such a wonderful audience!” Jennifer announced.

The crowd broke out into raucous cheering for the actors. There was more said, but Hugh could no longer hear it. It was drained away by the audience’s voices.

Movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. He glanced at the other actors and followed their lead by bowing. The man beside him did the same. When they rose from the bow, he felt a cold shock at feeling a hand grabbing his hand. The audience went on cheering as the stage was cleared.

Hugh followed the others to the back-stage area. The moment the door closed, he tore his hand from the Sniper’s hand. He grit his teeth in an angry snarl as he backed away. He dared not let the Sniper get the upper hand again.

“Holy shit, you guys know each other?” Nathan asked eagerly.

“What are you doing here?” Hugh snarled, ignoring Nathan’s question.

The Sniper furrowed his brow. His face was painted with concern as he looked at Hugh. His eyes bounced momentarily to Nathan with curiosity, before returning to Hugh. He seemed completely oblivious as to why any of this would be inappropriate.

“There it is!” the Director came to them with his arms spread and his eyes beaming.

“The fuck was that?” Neil turned to the Director, “You dropped the curtain on _that_?!”

“It was perfect!” the Director announced proudly.

“He just called him _love_ in front of an American audience, and you ended it on that!” Nathan argued.

“That was perfect! The chemistry! The emotion! I could feel it! Just like the elevator footage!” the Director explained excitedly.

“But this was their debut!” Nathan declared with frustration, “You can’t just throw them at that!”

“Elevator footage?” Hugh was perplexed at this tidbit of information.

“Don’t worry about it,” the Director said dismissively, “It’ll be fine! It’s only the first episode of the season. The people love drama. What a great episode to kick off with!”

“But they’re new to this!” Nathan argued.

“ _Elevator footage_?!” Hugh raised his voice and added anger to his tone.

“You saw that?” the Sniper interjected with hesitant frustration.

“You two work perfect together,” the Director praised the Spy and Sniper with a smile.

“Howd your grubby hands get onto that footage?” the Sniper demanded in an angry growl.

“Marty sent it to me! You two were great in that!” the Director clapped a hand on the Sniper’s shoulder.

“Who is Marty?” the Sniper asked, confusedly.

Hugh skipped over the man’s question, “Is this why we were brought to California? You saw some _security_ footage? That was not even normal filming! That was an elevator in an office building! We were trapped in there for hours! It was miserable!”

“Filming or not, you two are drama gold!” the Director cheered enthusiastically.

“You have no idea what you have done!” Hugh exclaimed.

The Sniper suddenly pushed Hugh aside. He stepped towards the Director, towering over him. Hugh worried for the Director’s safety, but only a little, because the man was due some pain.

“You mean tot tell me that this little shit griping about small spaces is the entire reason we have been brought onto this joke you call a show?” he gestured to Hugh irritably.

“Joke?” the Director reeled at that.

“Whoa! Hey!” Nathan stepped in angrily, “That’s pretty uncalled for!”

“This isn’t your scene,” Jennifer jumped in defensively, “If you can’t take the heat, then I suggest you jump ship!”

“Yes, please do,” Hugh muttered, folding his arms over his chest.

“I don’t see what the problem is here,” the Director exclaimed, with a bit of frustration turning his cheeks pink.

“I’m getting real sick of listening to you jaw,” the Sniper growled.

That was when the Engineer physically stepped in, “There was some…miscommunication.” Despite his short stature, a hand on the Sniper’s chest was all it took to get the man to back away from the Director.

“What sort of misunderstanding?” Hugh demanded, “The way I see it, this is just another abuse of power!”

“What?” Nathan exclaimed, “No it’s not! No way!”

The Director gestured for Nathan to leave, “Maybe we should talk in private. You are clearly upset by this. We can straighten this out on a personal one on one level.”

The gazes of the Medic and the Engineer caught Hugh’s eye. The Medic quickly turned his eyes away. The quick movement to the floor plainly gave away his guilt. The Engineer on the other hand met his gaze. The stout man was unabashed. In fact, Hugh could only assume that it was a warning.

“I’m thinking not, you swarmy snake,” the Sniper’s low dangerous growl was surprising.

Hugh bristled at how dangerous the implied threat was. It was a familiar kind of fear. It made him want to disguise and disappear into the slew of crew members working on cleaning up the set and the back stage area.

“Let’s just go sort this out,” the Director insisted, moving away from the Sniper, “We can work everything out if you’re willing to sit down and talk about this like civil adults.”

The Sniper’s hand moved to where a kukri might have been at one point. Hugh did not even realized that he was reacting before his fingertips brushed the sewn pocket of his jacket. Not only did he not have a single blade, but there was nowhere to put any blade in the entire outfit he was wearing. There was no way he was going to get used to wearing this outfit.

“Now, can you boys come talk with me about this civilly?” the Director asked, gesturing for them to follow.

Hugh glanced at the Engineer again. The man was glaring at him. He was staring him down, giving him some sort of warning. What it was supposed to mean was beyond Hugh’s reasoning. It was not as if he could read minds based on facial cues or anything like that.

He decided to take the warning by staying put, “I think not. I think we can discuss this right here. As civil adults. I think you can explain to us what it was you were thinking to use security footage from an office building.”

“It wasn’t _my_ idea!” the man deflected with a high-pitched tone. Not necessarily a lie, but probably a man who thought that guilt in this situation was irrelevant because he belittled the situation.

“I don’t care whose idea it was,” Hugh growled.

“What? You’re going to be mad about some security footage?” the man shrugged, “It’s not like you own it. It belongs to Mann Co, from what I’m aware of.”

“No, I’m angry that I’m here working with _this_ …” he turned to gesture to the Sniper in a disgusted manner.

“Hey!” the Sniper growled at him in warning.

“I’m not staying here,” Hugh turned back to the Director, “I cannot work like this.”

“What? Big bad Spy gets onto a Hollywood stage for the first time and thinks he gets to prance around and make demands like some hot shot movie star?” the Director demanded angrily.

“You did not make clear the intentions of hiring me here,” Hugh explained, “And I refuse to work in the same _city_ let alone in close proximity!”

“That is just too damn bad, isn’t it?” the Director folded his arms over his chest, “You both signed the contracts. You both owe a season to this show!”

“I cannot do this with this freak here!” Hugh gestured to the Sniper.

“Like being around a pissy little mite like you is any kind of joy for me!” the Sniper growled at him.

 

 

Hugh sat quietly. He was waiting in the back seat of the car as the driver brought him to his apartment. The place was just as quiet when they pulled up. At least it was not ainhabited by a certain Sniper.

“Sir?” the driver broke into his thoughts. He sighed, resigning himself to a sullen walk to the apartment building’s front door. “Good night sir,” the man called after him, before driving off.

Hugh kept his eyes ahead, as he unlocked the door and headed inside. He concentrated on getting into his apartment. Once inside, he let out another sigh. What a damned day it had been. He could at least enjoy the peace and quiet of being alone in this apartment. He was startled from his thoughts by ringing. He reached for a gun, where there was none. His hackles stood on end as he looked around. The ring came again, and he realized that a phone was on the counter top. He had noticed it the day before, but had given it very little attention.

He picked the handheld up and put it to his ear, “Hello.”

“About time you picked up!” he was surprised to hear Antoine laughing at the other end of the call.

“I just arrived at my apartment to a phone ringing. I’ve been working all day,” he explained.

“Oh! Well, that’s good!” Antoine said cheerfully.

“What is going on?” Hugh asked warily.

“Oh, nothing much. Don’t worry about it. It’s not a _real_ party!” Antoine’s words started to slur.

Somebody was shushing him, “Don’t tell him! He’ll be bummed he isn’t here!”

He took a minute to think about it. There were not many women that he knew lived in Toronto. Then again, Antoine could easily have a _lady friend_ that Hugh did not know about. Then again, that voice was rather familiar.

“Is that Melisa?” he asked.

“Oh yea!” Antoine chuckled, “I’m at her house! We’re having a few drinks!”

Melisa’s voice drew closer to the phone, “Hey Jack!”

Hugh groaned as he realized that they were both drunk. “You are both drunk!” he exclaimed loudly, “Where’s the baby?”

“She’s fine,” Antoine tried to assure him, “Melisa put her to bed hours ago.”

Hugh rolled his eyes with a disgruntled sigh. He already regretted leaving Antoine to watch after Melisa and Esperanza alone. Not that he thought the other Spy would do this. Far from it, he had expected the man to be much more reliable and responsible than this. Now he was at the woman’s house, encouraging her to drink while no sober adults were watching over Esperanza.

“So help me, Antoine,” he growled low.

“Do you want anything?” he heard Melisa calling from a distant room.

“Water please!” Antoine called back. His voice drew closer to the phone and his tone dropped. He switched to French as well, as if to secure what he was saying. “I am sorry, Hugh,” Antoine spoke softly, “I’m trying to pacify Melisa at the moment. She is dealing with some very trivial issues at the moment.”

“By drinking?” Hugh did not care to lower his voice for this, “Antoine, you are not supposed to be encouraging that woman towards alcoholism!”

“I know, I know,” Antoine insisted, “I promise, I’m not drinking much. I’m passing off as drunk for her sake. The baby _is_ fine too. She’s asleep. She won’t even know what we were doing in the living room.”

“I don’t care, Antoine,” Hugh growled, “My goddaughter’s safety is priority. And you teaching Melisa to be so irresponsible is pathetic of a man who prides himself of having changed the way his woman raised his kid!”

“That is uncalled for, and you know it,” Antoine hissed.

Hugh growled in irritation, “I don’t care what’s uncalled for! You need to-” He was cut off by a hiss to shush him.

“Spy? Did you want cheese? I forgot what you asked for, but I want cheese,” Melisa called to Antoine.

“Sure! That’s fine!” Hugh could hear the smile that Antoine had painted across his face. He probably looked like a complete idiot. “Don’t use any knives though,” Antoine added loudly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll use the butter knives,” Melisa called.

“Antoine, if she’s had as much to drink as I think she has, then no butter knives,” Hugh growled sternly.

“Melisa!” a hand was muffling the mouth piece of the phone, “No butter knives!”

“Antoine,” Hugh sighed.

He waited impatiently as Antoine ensured that Melisa was not going to use the butter knives. He should be patient anyways, since Antoine was responsibly making sure she was not hurting herself. Given how drunk they were, even something that harmless could turn into a severe injury.

When Antoine returned to the phone, he sounded like he was sitting back down, “So how is the weather in California? I hear it’s hot weather right now.”

“It’s alright,” Hugh replied dismissively.

“So, you work a nine to five job, right?” Antoine teased.

“It was actually longer than ten hours today,” Hugh argued.

“Oh really? Huh,” Antoine sounded like he was shrugging, “At least you have something to keep you busy. Keep a cranky old man like you busy.”

“Cranky old man?” Hugh exclaimed.

“No knives means whole blocks of cheese!” Melisa returned to the room.

“That’s alright,” Antoine said to her, “Just nibble on the little ones.”

“Oh God, I am so glad you got Swiss cheese! Have I ever told you I love Swiss?” Melisa asked, through a slurred tone.

“I love Swiss cheese too!” Antoine slurred, feigning a heightened drunkenness.

“I _told_ you that she likes Swiss cheese,” Hugh frowned, feeling a little miffed on top of his original irritation.

“Ah, yes that’s right,” Antoine spoke passively, as if he was paying very little attention, “Listen, I need to go. We just called to see how you were doing. I hope that California will do you some good. Time away from Toronto will benefit you the most. Melisa and Esperanza will be fine. I promise. If it makes you feel better, I’ll mandate her calling you regularly.”

“Poor Jackie boy! He probably gets so lonely!” Melisa giggled drunkenly, “Tell him he can call me any time! I’ll talk with him any time.”

“Melisa says you can call her any time you want to,” Antoine repeated.

“I got that,” Hugh nodded, despite the fact that they could not see him.

“Alright then,” Antoine had a tone that brought the conversation towards its conclusion, “Good night, friend.”

A beep told him that the call had ended. He did not immediately move. He waited until the beeping started becoming a repetition, meant to let the person on the line know that the other line had ended. He hung the phone up and went to the refrigerator.

His thoughts ran over what he had heard and what was implied while he dug through the fridge. There was not much there, after his short excursion to the nearby stores, but there were some vegetables that he could prepare into a salad. He was not too hungry, but he should at least eat something.

He thought about what Melisa must be going through. Antoine had mentioned that there was something trivial she was going through. What was she going through though? What was troubling her?

He did not have to focus on the knife as he sliced vegetables, making them into bite sizes that were easier to consume. Knives were easy to compartmentalize. Dividing things and making things into categories made everything simpler. It was when everything mixed together that things became complicated. That was life though, and this was a salad.

He tossed the salad and took it to the table to eat. It was terribly quiet. It was almost terrifyingly quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They were not exactly guesses, but yes you were right. It's that Sniper.


	14. A Clear Conscience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine spends the night at Melisa's house. He wrestles with some thoughts about it.

Antoine looked at the woman hesitantly. Ever since hanging up the phone with Hugh, he felt like he had suddenly been shaken from a dream state. He was chewing on his lip as the drunk woman snuggled up against his shoulder. She was smiling happily.

The pleasantry of her company felt like something foreign to him. He had not been in the company of somebody like her in a long time. Not a mercenary. Not Mann Co Personnel. Even soft to the touch.

He shook himself, trying to remind himself of where he was and what he was doing. He was paying a pleasant visit to Melisa. She was the woman they were supposed to be guarding against Mann Co’s influence. He had to keep his logic and reasoning in his head.

“It’s so nice to have some company,” Melisa said with a pleasant smile, “It gets lonely here.”

Some silent voice in his mind was groaning and griping about Hugh. Damn him for being a voice of reason. Damn him for having brought Antoine’s attention to the fact that he was in the company of a drunk woman, who was also a mother, who was also under his care. Damn it all to hell and back, for making him have to choose the high road.

In a way, he was guilty of irresponsibility for even thinking of anything contrary. The woman was drunk. She was all alone and isolated from most people. All she had were the Spies, and with their mutual friend gone to California, all she had was him.

But could anyone blame him? He looked at the woman snuggling up against him and felt something warm in his chest. She was a pretty woman, somewhere in her mid-thirties, who had a very spritely outlook and a very keen intellect. There was no doubt in his mind that this was why Hugh was really able to get along with her.

And it was not as if he was provoking any of this either. He had suggested that they chat a bit more, but it had been Melisa who had invited him to drink with her. It had been her who suggested that he stay here for the night, since he was not good to drive. No doubt the woman had thought of that, trapping him here in her home where she could have his company.

Not that he was complaining though. What man with a good head on his shoulder could actually turn down such a sweet invitation? To be manipulated by such a pretty woman into her personal domain was worth the trickery.

 

 

“You’re so warm,” Melisa snuggled against him with a happy smile.

They had been chatting for a while now. By this point, it was late and they were both going to be well hung over when they woke up. He was not sure he would get into the office before two in the afternoon tomorrow. It was worth feeling wanted though.

“Perhaps we should check on Esperanza,” he suggested, hoping to remind her that she was a mother with a child in the other room. It was nice to feel wanted, but he still remembered his limitations.

“She’s fine! She is asleep,” Melisa insisted.

“We’ve had…a few drinks,” he explained, “What if she is crying and we cannot hear her?”

Melisa grunted in irritation and got to her feet. Before Antoine could say anything more, she was ambling off to her daughter’s room. He was not sure what he had expected, but he was relieved to follow her and find her looking into the crib. It was dimly lit by the night lamp, but the toddler’s sleeping face was as clear as daylight.

She turned to Antoine, “I think she is fine.”

“Yea,” he sighed, feeling foolish. To her, he must seems so foolish right now.

“We should turn in,” Melisa said somberly. She was looking at the crib, instead of at him.

Either way, he was fine with it. She was going to be a responsible mother. That was a good thing. He would not feel guilty and foolish in the morning.

Melisa stepped out of the baby’s room and paused in the hallway. He watched her curiously. He was wary that she could be sick from all of the wine she had consumed. He thought back to try and take a mental count of the glasses he had seen her consume.

“Have you ever had kids, Spy?” Melisa suddenly asked.

“Yes I have,” Antoine replied.

“Wait…what?” she was taken by surprise.

‘I have had a son,” he nodded, eyeing her warily. He was not sure where this line of questioning was coming from.

“I’m sorry. I just…wasn’t expecting a yes! Normally you Spies are very secretive. I could not see any of you having a kid. Oh! Was it a baby mam?” she was hesitant up until the end.

“No, it was not,” he frowned. He would never think of Roxanne that way.

“Wow! So…you really had a kid!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, I did,” he was already frustrated with her interrogation.

“I just can’t believe it!” she proclaimed.

“Believe it,” he responded passively.

“Wow! I uh…do you still contact him? I mean, Mann Co put us through _hell_ for daring to have a baby!” she went on.

He grunted dismissively, “He was born long before I joined Mann Co.”

“Oh! So, they didn’t have your DNA under contract like they did with Glenn’s?” she asked.

“What?” he reeled at her question. In what contract was DNA ever mentioned?

“Nevermind,” her cheery mood completely shut down, “I’m probably just drunk. I should go to bed.”

“I should…probably head to the couch then,” he replied, wishing this awkward farewell would end just as it was beginning.

“Y-yea…that would be- probably be the best,” she nodded in agreement. She took a step backwards, heading down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

He responded to this by doing the same, only in the direction of the den, “I’ll just be going.”

“Yea, sleep is a…good idea,” she agreed.

“I’ll just head to the couch,” he backed some more down the hall.  
“I’ll just be in the master bedroom. I’ll be alone…as you know.”

“Yes well…good night then,” he managed to get out.

He could not believe that this was the level of awkwardness that they had come to. After a night of drinking wine together, this should be easier. The alcohol should actually be countering this for both of them.

“I’ll be on the couch if you need anything,” he added.

“Yup!” she nodded, “Same here. Only, I’ll be in the bedroom.”

“Good night,” he finally turned and headed to the den.

“Good night,” he heard her quiet voice, before she turned as well.

He dared not look back. He kept his eyes forward. He had to keep his eyes forward, because if he looked back he would only have more regrets. No, he had to focus his mind on doing the responsible thing.

He looked at the couch and groaned inwardly. He dared not voice his discomfort with the awful choice of bedding. Drunk or not, he would not doubt the possibility that Melisa could hear a lot of things in her own home. He would not be considered a bad guest on his first night.

 

 

When he woke, it was to the smell of something most splendid. He was not sure what it was yet. He was not yet able to shake the smudged and bleary sensation in his eyes. His vision needed to clear, with knuckles rubbing them, before he could make sense of where he was.

Judging by the sore spot on his back and the position he was in, this was not his bed. The felt of the couch was certainly not the soft sheets that laid out over his bed. It was rough to the touch, and was only blocked by a quilted blanket that was wrapped around him.

He sat up and forced himself to look around. Spy training be damned, some people just needed to feel old once in a while. This was one of those mornings when he just felt too damn old to be up this early. He should be retired by now, should he not?

“Oh good! You’re awake!” he recognized Melisa’s voice and the night before came flooding back to him.

He gave himself a mental pat on the back. He managed not to screw up an evening of drinking wine. While he would normally not do anything terrible, it seemed like drunkenness was reason enough to be proud of himself. He managed to reach the morning without making a terrible and drastic mistake.

“I hope you like pancakes,” Melisa called from the kitchen.

The high pitched voice of the toddler caught his attention. She was quietly playing with some brightly colored rings. They were supposed to go on a peg, but she did not seem to understand that concept. Instead, she thought they were chew toys that should taste like candies, instead of the plastic she was actually putting into her little mouth.

“Do you like bananas?” she called, “I make mine with bananas.”

He studied Esperanza curiously. She looked quite a bit like Melisa in so many ways. She had her hair color and her eyes. The cute little nose was the same too. If he kept studying her, he could probably break down what Melisa actually looked like as a child.

“No fruit?” Melisa called, having received no answer.

“Anything is fine, thank you,” he finally called, before allowing himself to yawn.

A glance around the room brought his attention to a picture framed on the table at the end of the couch. It was of the small family when Esperanza was born. She was just a tiny pink thing, but both her father and mother adored her already, as evidenced by their proud and loving smiles in the picture.

Upon closer inspection, he could see some more features that Esperanza received from her father. She could have easily have gotten the brown hair from her father. Time would only tell if it would turn out more auburn or more sandy in color. Her lips were like his, thin but prominent. She also had his facial structure, giving her a narrower set of cheekbones.

“Do you like orange juice or lemonade?” Melisa called.

“Either is fine,” he called back to her.

“If you don’t make a choice on something, I’m going to feel like you don’t care to have breakfast at all!” she laughed at him.

He huffed a sigh and rubbed his eyes. It was much too early to be thinking so deeply about things. Hereditary analysis aside, he decided to focus on the breakfast menu presented to him.

“I’ll take plain pancakes with butter, and an orange juice,” he responded.

“Alright then,” Melisa sounded like she was cheered up by his response.

He got to his feet and ambled into the kitchen. Melisa had already made a stack of pancakes. There were fruits in most of them, ranging from berries to bananas. It seemed the woman had a big appetite. That or she had figured she would cook more than her guest could eat, so that he would be satisfied when he woke.

“You don’t have to go through so much trouble for me though,” he insisted, hoping to lift the burden a bit.

“No no! I’m already making some for me and Esperanza,” she explained, “You might as well stay and eat with us!”

“I mean, I already feel as though I overstayed my welcome,” he insisted, “As hung over as I am…we were drinking very late last night.”

She laughed again, “Indeed we did.”

He took a mental step back from the situation to think and analyze. She had laughed twice. While to most people it would seem sincere, the placement felt all wrong to Antoine. It made him wonder if the laughter was truly sincere, or if it was somehow forced.

“Would you bring Speranza into the kitchen and set her in her high chair for me?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“Sure,” he started to the den again, “I can do that.”

He found the tyke smacking a picture book against another picture book. She seemed to be entertaining herself with brutalizing the literature, instead of using it properly. It made him want to have a laugh, but did not want to seem rude by laughing at Melisa’s daughter.

As he picked up the child, bringing the girl’s attention to his face, he wondered about Drake. The boy had grown a lot before they met. Roxanne had been pregnant when he left America for war time. It made him wonder what Drake had been like when he was this small.

The girl reached up to touch his face and he smiled. Her tiny fingers jammed in between his lips and his head reeled back in surprise. She giggled, delighted by his reaction and tried the same thing again. This time, he took her hand and pulled it away from his face.

“You don’t want fingers in _my_ mouth,” he informed her.

He shifted her weight onto one arm, as he carried her into the kitchen. He pulled the high chair back from the table and tried to slide her into it. Unfortunately, the girl put her feet on the seat and decided to stand on it, with her hands on his shoulders. She giggled with glee, looking down at how high she was standing from the ground. She was so thrilled that she began to bounce.

“Esperanza no!” he corrected in a gentle voice, “Sit down.”

Melisa laughed, but this time it definitely sounded genuine to Antoine, “She’s not going to listen to you.”

“I can still try,” he said, peeling a small hand from his mouth.

“Keep trying,” she said, in a sarcastically cheerful manner.

He did keep trying. He tried pulling her legs through. He tried forcing her down onto her butt. He even tried to take the high chair apart so that he could put it back together around her. She just did not want to sit down for him.

“She really likes you,” Melisa chuckled.

“How can you tell?” he jested, as he tried to pull her leg through a hole again.

“I can tell,” Melisa said, dismissive of reasoning, “I thought you had a kid of your own.”

Ah, so she remembered last night. Antoine reminded himself to be grateful that she remembered last night. That meant she would have no reason to be afraid of him. She would also remember that he did no guilty things last night.

“I did have a kid,” he replied.

“You don’t much look like a guy who has had a kid,” she said, bringing a stack of pancakes to the table to set in the middle.

While Esperanza was watching her mother carry pancakes, she sat down. Taking the opportunity, Antoine slipped her chubby little legs through the holes and scooted the high chair close to the table. He let out a relieved sigh.

“You don’t seem like you’ve had experience,” she teased, “You a little rusty?”

“No,” he protested. He pouted a little, feeling a little put out at the teasing. “To be honest, I was not able to be around when he was this age,” he professed.

“What? Were you always at work?” she teased.

“Sort of,” he shrugged.

“Not a very good thing to put Spy work ahead of your own kid,” Melisa said. Her tone was soft, but the bite in her words was harsh.

“Hard to decide on that, when it’s a war,” he shrugged.

“A war? What? Like Vietnam? Did the French go to Vietnam?” she asked, genuinely confused.

“No, the Germans came to France,” he explained.

“When did the Germans go to France?” she scrunched her brow as she thought about this.

“Do you not know history?” he asked.

“Well, I never claimed to be good at it,” she confessed, with a half-hearted shrug of defeat.

“The second Great War? World War two?” he offered.

“You…you were around for the second World War?” she asked, with genuine amazement.

“Yes,” he nodded, “And I fought in it too. Granted, as a Spy. I was still an important asset to the military though.”

“A Spy working with military in a war?” she laughed breathily, “I can’t imagine that.”

“What you imagine is trenches with firefighting,” he told her, “What I did was recon. I traveled from France to Germany, to Poland and Belgium. H- Jacques and I went all around Europe gathering information and feeding it back to the military.”

“Really? I didn’t think about that. Wow! And Jacques too?” she voiced with amazement.

He nodded in response, “There were many Spies working for the military, back in the second Great War.”

“I just…can’t get over it,” she said with amazement.

“You can’t get over what?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

“You must be so old!” she declared.

He gave her a pointed frown. Since when did young people go around shouting how old people are? Back in his day, that was seen as remarkably rude. In fact, from what he had found, it was still considered extremely rude.

“Rude,” he noted, distancing himself from her in his tone.

“So how old are you now? When were you born?” she pressed eagerly.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he replied, stepping around the high chair to put a bit of physical distance between them.

“Okay, alright. I’m sorry. I get it. I shouldn’t be so rude,” she sighed, as she placed a pitcher of orange juice on the table, “But…imagine how I’m feeling right about now. I’m psyched to find out just how old you are!”

“Well, maybe I won’t tell you,” he said, folding his arms over his chest.

“Aww! Come on!” she whined.

“No,” he told her sternly.

“Oh come on, there’s nothing wrong with being old,” she insisted, “You’re an older man. It’s not like I didn’t know that before.”

“You acted like you didn’t,” he protested.

“Okay, so I was a _little_ surprised that you were old enough to have been an adult during World War two,” she rolled her eyes.

He murmured under his breath in irritation. He noted that she was gesturing to a chair for him to sit down. When he sat down and the smell of pancakes covered his face, he could not help but forget his frustration for the moment.

“Come on! Can’t you give me a little hint?” she pleaded, as she sat down across from him. She started cutting some pancakes into little pieces for Esperanza.

“I was born in nineteen o’ seven,” he answered.

“Nineteen o’ seven?” she gave him a look of disbelief.

“Yes,” he nodded, putting a couple of pancakes on the plate that had been set at his chair.

“Holy shit,” she breathed.

“Must you with the obscenities?” he asked.

She raised her eyebrows at him, astounded by his answer. “I’m…sorry it’s just…wow!” she said, putting on a smile.

“No need to appease _me_ by smiling,” he grumbled, “Besides, Hugh is older than me. You can _wow_ over that.”

“Really? How much older than you is he? I really thought you were the older one!” she said, with wide eyed amazement.

Her hands were still moving, making the pancakes into little pieces. All the while, the toddler held out her hands and made high pitched noises to get her mother’s attention. She was hungry and she really just wanted to stuff some pancakes into her tiny mouth.

“Why would you think that?” he inquired.

“Well…not like you _look_ older or anything like that!” she assured him, “I don’t know. You two just…your dynamic I guess? You seem like the older one…maybe more experienced.”

“I feel flattered, but no,” he cut his pancakes into bite sizes, “In fact, Jacques was my mentor.”

“Really?” she placed the plate of tiny pieces in front of Esperanza. The girl squeed excitedly as she started putting pancakes into her mouth with her little fingers.

“Oui,” he replied, pouring a bit of syrup on his pancakes, “He was already experienced when I first set foot on the job.”

“Wow,” she blinked at him, “I just…didn’t picture it that way.”

“What way did you picture it?” he asked, as he took a bite.

“Well, I guess I just imagined _you_ as the more experienced one,” she shrugged, “I mean, I know Glenn is old, but that is older. In a few months…it will be…his ninetieth…birthday…”

Her eyes started to water up, building up upon her lids. He watched in horror, as if the world had paused for this. He could already see the explosion waiting beyond those glistening eyes. The tremor of her lip just gave away how close she was to letting loose all emotion.


	15. Rectification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh tries to fix what the Sniper did. Sniper makes it worse.

The next morning was the same as the last morning. Hugh got ready as usual and went to meet his driver. As no surprise to him, the driver was running behind schedule. To make up for it, he had to speed through traffic, as he raced to get Hugh to work on time.

“Next time, be sure to give yourself extra time,” Hugh scorned the driver as he climbed out.

He made his way through the studio and reached the backstage area. This time, the audience was already in their seats and ready for the cameramen and actors to do their thing. The only difference was that Hugh was not sure about what his thing was supposed to be today.

“There you are!” Neil caught his attention, “Nathan is looking for you. I was wondering if you wanted to join me in an extra scene.” Neil invited him over with a smile.

“An extra scene?” he put his arms over his chest in a defensive manner. He was already put off by Neil the day before, and he was not sure he trusted the man’s cheeriness today.

“I got an extra spot,” Neil explained, “But Nathan is taking a lot of lines for today. He was supposed to do a bit with me. I figured, why not me and Spy?”

“Why not ask the Sniper?” he asked, dismissively.

“Eh,” Neil raised his arms in a dramatic shrug, “He hasn’t even shown up yet. I haven’t had a chance to ask him. I’m asking you first. Would you…rather I asked him?”

“I don’t really care who you ask,” Hugh replied.

“If you don’t want to do an extra scene, you can just say,” Neil said defensively.

“It’s not about the extra scene,” Hugh shook his head.

“Is this about the Sniper? Because I don’t feel comfortable with being dragged in on somebody else’s battles like this,” Neil insisted, raising a clipboard defensively this time.

“No,” Hugh growled, “While it is a little about him. I hate this show.”

“Hey! Spy! Good to see you!” the Director called to him. He was approaching them with Nathan at his heels. Both of them were wearing big cheery smiles that were bright enough to cook a chicken. “Glad at least one of my new stars isn’t late to the job!”

“Naturally,” Hugh commented dismissively.

“Spy was just telling me that he hates the show!” Neil exclaimed.

Hugh raised a questioning eyebrow at the man. He had hoped to warn him, but the man was already cowering in a sense. He did not seem like he was going to keep anything in, if he had anything more to say about it.

The Director chuckled nervously and took Spy’s arm, “Look, I get that you don’t like this, but you are under contract!”

“Yes, I get that,” Hugh yanked his arm from the Director’s grip, “And you have made it clear that you are not on my side.”

“What? No way! You don’t like the show?” Nathan sounded heartbroken about this.

“What now? What’s going on?” Jennifer came ambling over to see what the commotion was about.

“People please!” the Director raised his arms to silence them all, “One person at a time! This is a private matter anyways. We’ll discuss it further at the lunch break.”

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Hugh turned his attention to the Director, focusing his body language to the man.

“I understand that you do not like the show, but at least give it some pretend,” the Director insisted, “It’s not good for the morale of the staff. It’s not good for anybody who overhears you. We may need to get you a PR team.”

“A what team?” Hugh shook his head, “I don’t need anything like that.”

“You’re still under contract,” the Director insisted, “And that means you’re going to be putting up with this show!”

“That does not mean I have to like it,” Hugh protested.

“You need to pretend that you do!” the Director declared.

“Why don’t you like the show?” Jennifer interrupted, “Was it the attitudes yesterday? Yesterday was a bad start. Let’s start fresh! I’m much better with coffee in my system!”

“Yea, you really are a grump when you haven’t had your morning coffee,” Nathan teased with a giggle.

“I’m Jennifer and I play the Nurse,” Jennifer announced, holding out her hand in greeting.

“That won’t be necessary,” Hugh dismissed her greeting. He refocused himself on the Director again. “Fine. If I must pretend, then I shall. If you wish for me to work with you, then you had better make this filming easier.”

“How do you expect me to do that?” the Director asked, with desperation in his tone.

“We can’t really make your job easier, Spy,” Nathan insisted.

“It’s uh…kind of counter to the concept of _work_ ,” Jennifer added.

“Alright! I’m here!” the loud obnoxious introduction of a familiar Australian rolled into the back stage area.

Several people on staff rushed over to greet him. It was already evident that people were starting to like him. Even the Engineer hurried over to shake the man’s hand. None of the mercenaries even greeted Hugh, deciding to keep their distance from him.

“I ask you one simple request,” Hugh turned back to the Director, “You keep that man as far away from me as possible during work hours!”

“I’m not sure how to do that,” the Director gave him a pleading look.

“No scenes together,” Hugh explained, “And no-” He cut off as Neil’s voice caught his attention.

“Say Sniper, would you like an extra scene?” Neil asked him.

“Sure mate! Let me get a look at the script and I’ll see if I can have a go at it!” the Sniper replied with a friendly smile.

Hugh wanted to growl in disdain. He refrained from doing so, keeping his expression placid. He was already expressing enough anger as it was.

“That’s pretty difficult,” the Director professed, “You two _need_ scenes together! I mean, how the last episode ended is going to leave people too confused! They’re going to demand some answers. You will have to find some way to straighten that out.”

“That was not exactly my fault, now was it?” Hugh scorned, “You did not make me aware of what Sniper had filled the spot. You chose an insane asylum escapist.”

“What? Really? He escaped an asylum?” the man asked with disbelief.

“No,” Hugh sighed, irritated at the man’s easily placated mind, “He has, however, proven himself to be a threat in the past.”

“What? No he’s not!” the Director waved his hand dismissively, his voice going to a high pitch in disbelief.

“Mark my words,” Hugh warned, “That man is dangerous. So help me, if he gets hands on me, I will tear this show to shreds.”

“Alright! Alright! I get it!” the Director exclaimed, “I’ll get you a PR team, and try to write you away from the Sniper. Can you do _at least_ one scene with him today?”

“Today?” Hugh scoffed, “Why? Why today?”

“We need something to wrap up what he did in the last episode,” the Director explained, “It was gold. I had to use it! Please, just play along.”

Hugh sighed, “Fine. One scene. I will tolerate one scene with that oaf.”

“Who said I’d tolerate a scene with you?” the Sniper interrupted, glaring through his tinted spectacles.

“Look gentlemen, I made it clear yesterday,” the Director seemed to gain a little spine in his tone, “You are both contracted to finish the season. Once it is over, you’re both off the hook.”

The Sniper growled, “Just have to deal with the snake then.”

“Whatever you call each other; it’s fine,” the Director paused glancing between them, “But we need a scene for you to rectify the little scene from the previous episode.”

“You mean you kept that?” the Sniper grit his teeth as he realized the error in this.

“Yes of course! It was gold! Now I just need you two to sell it!” the Director pumped a fist excitedly.

“Alright then, I’m taking the lead,” Hugh insisted pointedly.

“I’m not a follower,” the Sniper growled.

“But you do take orders,” Hugh pointed out.

“Not from the likes of you, I don’t,” the Sniper argued.

“Then what do _you_ suggest, smart man?” Hugh mocked.

“I’ll go talk to Neil,” the Sniper replied, “Man seems like he has a good head for drama.”

“That’s perfect!” the Director had a lot of enthusiasm, “Get feedback from your coworkers! Get their input! They’ll be able to straighten you two out!” The Director glanced at his watch. “You two have two hours before your scene is up. I expect to see Spy in the background for scenes. I’ll have Kate let you know when to put you on set.”

“I suppose a little recon will help,” Hugh admitted. His eyes glanced around, as he tried to reason out who might be available for questioning.

“That’s the spirit, boys!” the Director patted both of their shoulders, “I’ll see you on set!” He made his way out to the stage area to help prepare the staff.

“See you then,” the Sniper lumbered off towards Neil.

He did not watch him go, instead reasoning out his options. Nathan looked like he was available. That was, until he followed Medic and Heavy out onto the stage. He turned around and surveyed his prospects again. There was Jennifer, but she never seemed very pleasant to Hugh.

He looked to the Engineer with a pause. The man was very hesitant to approach the Spy. It was evident in his behavior that there was some wariness about Spies. Nevertheless, maybe this was a good time to get to know him.

He strolled over to greet him, trying to act nonchalant as possible. The moment the Spy got within the Engineer’s range of comfort, he was on high alert. Like a watch dog, the eyes behind the goggles moved and his body language gave away how much attention he was giving to the Spy. Even Hugh moving a little to the side altered the man’s body language.

He put on the friendliest disposition that he could muster, “Good morning!”

There was a long silent pause. It was an awkward silence that lasted for more than a breath. It held Hugh captive as he waited for a greeting in response.

A sigh escaped the shorter man and a smile was forced across his lips, “What can I do you for?” That smile did not reflect his upper face, as the muscles around the eyes stayed relaxed.

“I was wondering if you might be able to help me,” Hugh spoke slow and carefully. He wanted to be cautious and deliberate with this man. “I am working on a scene to rectify what the Sniper did yesterday, but I could use some thoughts,” he explained, with a gentle gesture of the hands, “I figure somebody who has some experience with this show might be able to give me some input for this scene.”

“What exactly are you looking to do?” the Engineer’s eyebrows pushed down in a way that was unmistakably suspicion.

“I mean to rectify what the Sniper said,” Hugh explained.

“No, I mean what do you want to do,” the Engineer pressed, losing suspicious outlook.

Hugh felt like he could breathe a bit more, as the Engineer seemed a bit more relaxed, “That’s the problem. I want to make it clear that what the Sniper said has no bearings here. We don’t have any relations.”

“Ah too bad,” the Engineer snickered.

“Why is that?” Hugh eyed him, growing a bit distant.

“Audience was kind of hoping for a Sniper Spy romance,” the Engineer gave him a teasing grin, “So was I…a little.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint,” Hugh replied.

“Right, you two are fighting,” the Engineer nodded, “Lover’s quarrel?”

“No!” Hugh barked at him.

“Alright, don’t get your panties in a twist,” the Engineer insisted, “Let’s think for a minute.”

 

 

He spent an hour working things out with the Engineer. Eventually the man got called to the stage, leaving Hugh alone to ponder on it. He was eventually joined by Nathan, who had very little to offer the scene at this point in its conception.

It was not long before Hugh was also called to the stage. At least this part was just to stand around in the background. Be noticed but not noticeable. Be just out of the line of sight, while remaining in the visual focus. He had long since mastered the art of hiding in plain sight, so with his outfit decked with a scarf and the hat he used before, he let himself slip into the background.

 

 

He was a prop in the background, lingering as others talked in dramatic monologues and droned on about their make believe lives. Most of it was boring for him, until the parts about how the fight went came up. It got him riled up and he did not know why, but the payoff was no enough. He felt rather disappointed in the fact that they did not discuss who had won the round, who had the most shots, there were no arguments over somebody taking somebody else’s kill, and there were no pointed fingers at the Spy.

That part seemed strangest to him. Of all his fighting with Mann Co, not once had he not been blamed by _somebody_ for a loss. Even when a match was won, he was often blamed for how things went wrong.

He was not pleased to be pulled out of his thoughts by the Director. The man was waving at him to get his attention. He pushed off of the wall and brought himself towards the edge of the stage to hear him better.

“Alright! Spy and Sniper’s scene! Everybody in place! Sniper, you’re coming in from stage left,” the Director ordered.

“So I’m over here?” the Sniper asked, moving a step to the left.

“Way over there! Kate, give him a hand,” the Director ordered.

Hugh moved back, not wanting to move in front directly center stage. He took a moment to check his attire. He did not want to miss a wrinkle while he was in the camera’s focus.

“And Sniper, you will enter from stage left. Spy, meet him halfway! And… _action_!” the Director ordered.

The Sniper did not hesitate, quickly strolling across the stage. He barely gave Hugh time to take two steps. They quickly met, chests raised and glares seemingly piercing each other’s face.

Dread filled Hugh as he looked up at the brute before him. The terror began to sink in as the memories of how strong this man was flitted through his mind. He remembered being relentlessly dragged along towards the man’s camper.

His heart began to race and he needed more air. His breathing picked up as he felt his head grow light. He told himself to be strong, as he fought off the lightheaded sensations. He dared not pass out here in front of people, especially not in front of this man.

“Y-” the Sniper cut off, suddenly forgetting what he wanted to say.

“Cut!” the Director called out, “Cut, cut, cut! Go back and try again!”

The Sniper let out a breath as he turned around. That was when Hugh finally forced himself to stop holding his breath. He regained full feeling as he gained that space between himself and the Sniper.

“I want you two to meet in the middle,” the Director said, “So Spy, pick up your feet! Sniper, your line needs to be quick! Spy, I want you to think on your feet.”

Hugh gave a nod. As if he had any idea what the Sniper was going to say though. There was no telling what the man was going to come up with. He took a breath, ready for what was to come.

“Alright, let’s take it from there! And action!” the Director announced.

Hugh took a breath as he pressed forward. He managed to get a few extra steps before meeting the Sniper halfway. He once against kept his chest puffed up, trying to make himself look just a bit more intimidating. The other man did something similar, until hands grabbed Hugh’s upper arms.

“You’ve been running from us for a long damn time,” the Sniper said.

All that Hugh could think of saying was ‘what the fuck?’ but he knew he had to be a bit cleverer than that. Not by much, since the man required very little understanding of what was going on. Since he did not seem to be keen on making this work out the way Hugh had planned, Hugh would just have to modify his own plans. Granted, he probably should have shared them before, to make sure the Sniper was on the same page as him.

“Don’t give me that!” as he spoke, he swung his forearms out to knock the hands away, then pushed the Sniper by his chest, “You knew what this was a long time ago!”

“Clearly I don’t!” the Sniper put on a tone of despair, “Help me to understand, Spy!”

“What is there to understand?” Hugh walked around him, trying to put a little space between them. It felt too suffocating to stay so close to him. “That you’re a fool? That your insolence is to blame? That you have no dignity?” he was laying it on thick, hoping the Sniper got a good strong taste of the mockery.

The Sniper’s displeased quirk of the lip was evidence enough that he understood what it was, “You’ve got a lot of nerve, telling _me_ about dignity.”

“What about dignity?” Spy retorted quickly.

“I missed you, Spy,” the Sniper replied quickly, “I missed you and I tried to put the pieces back together.”

“What?” the word just slipped sarcastically from his lips.

The Sniper just kept going with it though, “You wouldn’t even give me a chance! You want to talk about dignity? You took _my_ dignity. You threw it in the bin and let it rot!”

He really wanted to ask what the hell he was talking about. Given that they were on camera and in front of an audience, he kept rolling with it, “What choice did I have.”

“I seen the choice you _made_! That much is clear!” the Sniper retorted, making himself sound frustrated.

“And what?” the Spy took a step farther away, “What do you want now? Retribution?”

“No, no I don’t want retribution,” the Sniper’s voice softened a lot. His gaze turned down, before gradually making its way back up to Hugh. “I want a chance,” he finally answered, “I want a chance. That’s all I want.”

“You want to what?” he asked, feeling confused as to what the man was requestion. What kind of chance did his character want? A chance to do what? No doubt the audience was confused as well.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the Sniper’s eyes had softened. Now, they were pleading with him. “I want you.”

Hugh took another step away, as the crowd started making ‘ooh’ sounds. This scene was going in the wrong direction. This audience was getting the wrong idea. Just from the corner of his eye, he could already make out a few faces who were lit up with excitement at this prospect.

“No,” he took another step away from the Sniper to ensure distance.

“N-no?” the Sniper dropped to his knees in lament.

“This…whatever this…whatever _you_ thought this was? It is over,” Hugh made a drastic gesture with his hands to signify death to the concept.

“But…why?” the Sniper pleaded in an indignant whimper. The crowd made loud ‘aw’ sounds at this.

“This…you and I…it’s over before it started,” Hugh answered, “Let it die.” He silently pleaded for the crowd to not sway too far towards the Sniper.

“It’ll never die,” the Sniper put his hand to his heart.

“It never lived,” Hugh put a hand on his own chest, turning away from the Sniper.

After a few moments of silence, the crowd broke into applause. They cheered loudly. A few people even whistled. Hugh could only think of how relieved he was that the scene was nearly over.

As the applause died down, the Sniper stood up, “I will find a way. I will revive your love.”

“You will do no such thing!” Hugh barked, “The cost of being a mercenary is high. If you want to be a lover of sorts…take it to civilian life.”

He turned and marched from the stage to exit to the right. His heart was pounding in his neck. He could barely breathe. Given that, he could barely breathe.

“Cut! Brilliant!” the Director announced excitedly.

Hugh let out a sigh of relief. Applause was going up from the crowd once again. Several people from the crowd stood up to make their cheering seem more prominent than it would otherwise be.

“Great job guys! Let’s cut to lunch break!” the Director announced.


	16. Two Different Minds, Two Different Ideas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh's side of the scene is not being interpreted the way he had intended.

Hugh stood patiently at the back of the scene. As if by some clever misunderstanding that he was not supposed to be there, the Sniper slipped in beside him. Hugh felt his hackles rise at the man’s presence.

“Hello there,” the Sniper spoke so low beneath his breath it was hard to see his lips move.

“You’re not in this scene,” Hugh left his voice down low.

“I can appear in the background, just like you,” the Sniper sounded like he was trying to assure the Spy of some skillset he had.

“Poor timing for this,” Hugh growled low.

“Oh really? Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” the Sniper quipped.

The two of them fell silent. Hugh did not feel the need to be the last man speaking. He would just let it be that. Maybe the Sniper would just stand there and loom nearby. That would be fine, since there was nothing he could do during this scene, while he was on camera.

They watched as the Heavy and the Medic started arguing again. They were going at it in a verbal sense. It seemed that whatever had occurred in the previous season, had left the Heavy’s character angry. There was something very passionate between those two though. He saw it contrasted against the way the Medic spoke to Jennifer while she was playing the Nurse. He was supposed to be falling for her, having an affair, but there was something much more powerful in the frustration and anger that came out when he was talking with the Heavy. Together or not, Medic was in love with Heavy.

Suddenly, the Medic reeled, turning to face the audience, or rather Sniper and Spy. The two of them stood stock still, as if they were bucks in headlights. The man’s eyes glowed with anger, as he got too passionate with his words.

“And what are you all looking at?!” the Medic pointed to them.

Movement caught his eye and he could not help his eyes glancing at the Sniper. The man had glanced at him, that much was clear from the side view of his sunglasses. He quickly looked back to the Medic again.

“You! You stand there and mock me?!” the Medic proclaimed, in an overly dramatic voice.

He sounded so sincerely sad and somber as he slowly turned back to the Heavy. The bigger man was standing there, looking at him with furrowed brow of concern and eyes twinkling with sadness. Hugh found himself wanting to know more about their dynamic and what had been happening up until this point. He wanted to help them see each other’s passion.

“If only I could be better to you,” the Medic’s voice went low and growly as he addressed the Heavy.

“You could have,” the Heavy replied, “Words don’t make better doctor.”

“Ja,” the Medic dropped his head, “I know. It is actions that make us better.”

“You could have been better,” was all the Heavy said, before exiting to stage left.

The crowd broke out in uproarious applause. Many of them stood up, apparently moved by their words. There was definitely a lot of passion behind it, so the Spy did not question why they would stand up.

“Not bad,” he heard the Sniper noted.

“If you’re thinking of one upping them, you can forget it,” Hugh joined in applauding.

The scene had apparently ended anyways, so everybody was cheering. Both the Heavy and the Medic stepped back onto the center stage to bow. That was what got the crowd really riled up.

Hugh decided to make himself scarce. He could use some space away from the oaf who had joined him on the stage. He made his way to the backstage area, where he found Nathan.

“Oh hey Spy! Wanted to tell you that I thought your scene was great! Nothing like what you showed me, but it was fantastic!” Nathan patted him on the shoulder.

“Thank you…I think,” Hugh replied hesitantly.

“I knew you’d be a pro at this,” Nathan added with a smile.

“Your confidence is taken with gratitude,” Hugh returned the smile.

“You’re a natural at this,” Nathan patted his shoulder again.

A familiar chuckled caused Hugh’s hackles to rise, he was just glad it was not the Australian’s chuckle. He turned to see the Engineer, grinning a crooked toothy smile and clapping his hands slowly. He had this sassy look about him that Hugh had not witnessed of the Engineer yet.

“Not bad,” the Engineer stopped clapping and rested his hands on his hips, “Not bad at all.”

“Thank you,” Hugh gave a mock bow.

“I thought you wanted _rectification_ ,” the Engineer went on, that crooked smile still frozen on his face.

“I did,” Hugh replied hastily, “I do!”

“You gave him a mile to work with,” the Engineer shook his head.

“Who?” Hugh asked, feeling worried of who the Engineer might be warning him about.

“The Director,” the Engineer chuckled, “The man sniffs out drama for the show. You give him an inch and he takes a mile. This time, you gave him the full mile. There’s no telling what will come of that.”

“I have nothing to fear,” Hugh stiffened. It was a blatant lie, but it was deterrent enough from the truth.

“I ain’t afraid of the Director either,” the Engineer replied, “But you’re about to find out what happens when you give the Director the drama he craves.”

“I don’t fear the consequences,” Hugh lied. The more he thought about it, the more terrified he did feel. That scene had so much passion put into it, and he was not sure the Director was ready to let that amount of drama go.

“Next time, don’t give him an inch,” the Engineer told him.

“I intend not to let there _be_ a next time,” Hugh informed him.

“Atta boy,” the Engineer praised.

“Dang! You and Sniper could feed this love hate relationship for an entire season!” Nathan said excitedly, “It’s so much drama it could last beyond that!”

“I don’t intend to do it again,” Hugh shut him down.

“You gave him the mile, boy,” the Engineer argued.

“What is your point?” Hugh inquired.

“My point is that if you give a moose a muffin, he wants milk,” the Engineer explained.

“You’ve lost me,” Hugh replied.

“It means that once you give him a little bit, he wants more,” the Engineer explained, “The Director is going to drive you two into the ground with this.”

“Well, I simply won’t let it happen,” Hugh crossed his arms indignantly.

“Good luck with that,” the Engineer chuckled.

“Today’s looking good!” Neil interrupted them, as he came to the backstage area, “You and Sniper basically knocked them out of the park with all of that drama shit. They don’t even need to know your characters were lovers! It was brilliant!”

“We were never lovers,” Hugh tightened his lips into a line.

“According to your lines, you were!” Neil’s voice was already starting to get onto Hugh’s nerves.

Hugh’s muscles tensed as he thought back to the scene he had been forced to present with the Sniper. It truly had presented as though they were past lovers. The way he saw it though was that there was a one night stand and nothing more. One man obsessed, the other moving forward.

“Not if you take it from the angle that men in close quarters end up getting real close to each other,” Nathan stepped in, “Some people are prone to getting too close to people like that. Others move on.”

Neil reeled back, staring at Nathan with uncertainty. He pursed his lips as he thought about this offered solution. Hugh was more than grateful for the solution. He looked to Hugh, seemingly studying his face.

“So, going to wriggle your way out of everything huh?” the Sniper’s voice caused Hugh’s hackles to rise.

“What’s he supposed to be wriggling out of?” Nathan asked, cluelessly.

Hugh turned to face the Sniper, but wished he had not. The man had gotten sneakily close. Hugh did not like being reminded that the man was so much taller than himself. He was taller, bigger and stronger. Alarms were going off in his mind about how dangerous it was that he was standing so close to this man. His eyes instinctively searched the perimeter for an escape route, planning for possible needs of escape.

“The scene was _supposed_ to be two lovers reunited,” Neil said with a huff.

“What? That’s so overdone!” Nathan argued, “Spy’s idea was much better!”

“No it wasn’t! It was just a shutdown of something that had never happened on the show!” Neil protested.

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Nathan gestured to the Spy and the Sniper, “They don’t get along. They were supposed to do a scene to keep their characters distant on the show.”

Hugh could feel heat building up from his neck to his ears. The Sniper was standing so close, and only seemed to creep closer. His proximity aside, the very way he got closer was starting to make Hugh freak out, as the man’s face seemed to draw nearer and nearer to Hugh’s.

“Bringing your petty quarrels to the show? For shame! That’s not very professional,” Neil mocked in a scornful manner.

Hugh took a deep breath and took a sweeping motion to turn and face Neil. He stepped into the turn, putting himself farther from the Sniper. The distance was not much, but at least it was a start.

“If you wanted professional _actors_ then you should have hired actors,” Hugh scorned Neil.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Neil reeled with confusion.

“Nah, don’t be modest!” Nathan protested, with a big grin.

“Wait, you’re a veteran though,” Neil said, as he pointed to the Spy, “You’re supposed to have acted on one of the actual mercenary shows.”

“He did!” Nathan’s voice had risen in pitch by a fraction.

“Don’t mind him, son,” the Engineer suddenly swooped in. It left Hugh feeling very self-conscious and fearful that he did not seem able to track those who were in his proximity. “He’s just being dramatic and all,” the Engineer had a crooked smile as he put an arm around the Spy’s shoulders, pulling him down to the Engineer’s level, “Don’t mind him none. You know how it is, Hollywood acting’s not like the acting we did.”

The Engineer’s arm started pulling him away. He was wary of this, but it was excuse enough to get away from the Australian looming nearby. A quick glance revealed that the man was practically glaring at the Engineer for pulling the Spy away. To Hugh’s relief, the short American was unaware of this glowering brute’s thoughts about what was happening.

“Let’s get some air,” the Engineer insisted, as he pulled Spy towards the door, one of the intended escape routes, “No need to get riled up and heated.”

Hugh quietly followed the Engineer’s lead. He did not want to be in here anyways. It was too close to the Sniper, the one man he wanted to get away from.

The Engineer’s arm came off of him as the door closed behind them. The shorter man gave him a strong shove. Hugh grunted, stumbling to catch his balance. Immediately alarmed by this, he planned yet another route of escape. He figured his trailer would be the best option, aside from just fleeing the studio.

“The hell are you thinking?” the Engineer scorned.

“What? What is it?” Hugh protested, putting some distance between himself and the Engineer.

“You can’t let on like that!” the Engineer exclaimed, “The masses of Hollywood don’t know damn diddly about what happens on a real mercenary show. That’s something we gotta keep to ourselves!”

“I’m well aware,” Hugh growled, adjusting the sleeves of his suit, to busy his hands.

“Then don’t go around telling everyone that!” the Engineer’s voice became strained as he stretched it between wanting to shout at him and keeping his voice down low.

“I didn’t tell them a thing,” Hugh argued.

“Don’t think you can play _me_ , boy!” the Engineer snarled.

The door opened, and suddenly they were both smiling and enjoying a small chat. Hugh managed to pull a cigarette from his coat in time to look like he was making use of the fresh air. The Engineer was gesturing for him to hand over a cigarette. The two of them quickly made themselves busy with the cigarettes and pretending to be interested in something so vague.

More alarms went off in Hugh’s head as the Sniper came out from the other side of the door and started strolling towards them. Hugh kept his eyes down on the cigarette, letting out a breath of smoke as the Sniper came closer and closer. He could hear every step of the man’s boots and grew warier.

“Mind if I bum one off of you?” the Sniper asked, “I left mine at the apartment.”

“Shared apartment?” the Engineer peered curiously at the Sniper.

“Nah, it’s just an apartment,” the Sniper held out a hand, expecting a cigarette.

Hugh paused, trying to debate with himself. Normally he would tell him to go fuck off anyways. This predicament was a little tricky though. He was right in front of a coworker, the Engineer no less. The man already seemed very wary of him. His trust could snap without a moment’s notice.

He tapped a cigarette out of the pack and let the Sniper pull it out. He watched warily as the tall Aussie popped one end into his mouth, then leaned towards him. The Spy lifted his lighter, holding it at arm’s length, both to startle the Sniper for how close it got to him, and to keep him distant.

He put his cigarettes and lighter away, watching warily as the Sniper puffed his cigarette. He tilted his head up as he let out a long breathe. The smoke trailed up to the sky, attracting the Sniper’s sharp eye.

“Ya’ll had better start getting along on set,” the Engineer said, with a warning tone.

“Ya’ll?” the Sniper mocked.

“You heard me, boy,” the Engineer growled, “You can go at it like stray dogs outside of the work area, but when you’re on the job, you need to straighten up!”

“Who are you?” the Sniper asked, “You don’t got a place to be telling us what to do.”

“I do though,” the Engineer argued, “I’ve been working here for near two years now. As short as that may be, it’s a hell of a lot longer than you!”

“The point is taken, laborer,” Hugh cut in, trying to get himself on the Engineer’s good side.

“Don’t go thinking you can cozy up to me like some dang cat!” the Engineer told Hugh sternly.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” the Sniper growled.

The Engineer turned to the Sniper, like he was ready to swing a wrench at his head. Given the man was weaponless and the Sniper was no doubt the stronger mercenary, Hugh decided to help him take a step back. He started with gloved hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Easy, no need for a fight,” he warned.

“I’m not the one starting fights here!” the Sniper turned to Hugh.

“I did not say you were,” Hugh protested, pulling the Engineer a step back.

“I don’t need no protecting,” the Engineer shook his hand off.

“All the same,” the Sniper dropped his cigarette and put it out under his boot, “It’s best we don’t associate outside of work. We might end up ripping each other’s throats out.”

“How about we never speak about this again,” the Engineer also put out his cigarette.

Hugh looked at his cigarette with regret. He wanted to finish it. He did not see the point in putting it out so soon. It was just a waste of a cigarette, and he needed all of that nicotine to get through this day.

“We should get back to stage,” the Engineer interrupted his thoughts.

With a reluctant sigh, he dropped the cigarette and stamped it out, “Oui.”


	17. Flee the Femme and a Spy’s Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine and Hugh both end up running from women.  
> Antoine discovers some critical information...too late.

Antoine groaned as he looked into the mirror in the stall. He was so hung over, he could feel the heartbeat of the world around him. He turned back to the sink as he brushed his teeth. His mouth tasted of pancakes and horrible regret.

At least it was not the kind of regret that he had feared. He tried to remind himself of this, but that just made him feel more regretful. He should feel less regretful, since he did not do anything that would actually make him regret staying at Melisa’s house overnight. He should feel proud of himself for not doing anything.

Still, as he raised his eyes to the mirror again, he realized that he was somehow regretful of that. Why though? Why could he not get it out of his head that he regretted everything? It was not just the night. It was the choice to stay there and drink. It was the choice to be there overnight with the mother and her daughter.

He sighed as he spat toothpaste into the sink. He turned on the faucet and let it rinse away the spit. He brushed his teeth again, wanting to get them freshly clean.

He finished with his teeth and turned off the faucet. He took a deep breath and looked at his reflection again. His eyes were swollen with dark circles around them. He looked like shit, and probably would not look much better tomorrow.

What a pathetic waste of time. Such a pathetic waste of space. Such a pitiful piece of shit.

He leaned both palms on the sink with a sigh. He closed his eyes and tried to silence the thoughts. The results of drinking were the consequence of a good time, he just had to overcome those things. He just had to be bigger than the crash that was taking him down in the spiral of a throbbing headache.

He pulled on the clean balaclava, then lumbered from the bathroom into the bedroom. He tossed the dirty clothes into his laundry hamper at the end of the bed. He looked at the bed under his, now empty of its previous inhabitant.

Should he admit it? Even to himself, admitting some things could be bad. Admitting things to himself that he should not admit to others would force himself to face that thing. Facing that thing would put it at the forefront of his mind.

Eventual admission that he missed Hugh made him feel even heavier than he had before. What a sour mood to be in after a somewhat pleasant visit. As much as he regretted staying at Melisa’s house overnight, he should be pleased by it, given how sweet and welcoming she was.

The presence of the pleasant young woman was nice. Remembering that she was a mother made things complicated. Either way, it was not the same as having Hugh around. He was no girl with cute eyes, but he was a friend and a familiar face to take comfort in, even when he cannot see the other Spy’s face.

He tried to pull his mind away from it. Still, the looming and empty sat there. It reminded him of Hugh, and the fact that he was no longer there.

Ah yes, and there was that throbbing headache. A hangover that came from a night of happy talking and drinking with a woman who probably should not have had so much to drink. She had a small child, after all. A small child could get into any sort of trouble that would result in the necessitated intervention of a responsible adult. A drunk adult was not a suitable stand in for a responsible adult in such a situation.

What was worse was lying to Hugh. He did not regret lying to Hugh. He had lied to his ex-mentor plenty. The man probably told him a million lies more than his own lies.

It was the reality of what he and Melisa had been trekking towards, so to speak. They had been drinking and laughing together. They had been flirting and having a good time. Melisa had even cuddled up against him with such ease that it put him in a place of comfort.

Even worse was the fact that when he thought about it, he actually liked the feeling. The comfort of the young woman’s body cuddling up against him was a welcoming circumstance. The flirting was welcome too, making him feel as young and attractive as he was when he met his dear Roxanne.

He should not even think about what had occurred to his drunk mind last night. If only Melisa had not reminded him that she had not gotten to talk to Hugh. If only she had forgotten him for the evening. They never would have called the other Spy. Melisa would not have made it clear to Hugh that they were drinking. It could not have been Antoine who gave it away, being good at hiding such things as drunkenness. It had to have been Melisa’s drunk talking.

Hugh never would have said anything to them about Melisa’s drinking. The man would not have laid it on thick that he was very disappointed in Antoine as a responsible adult and a proud father. The man would not have reminded Antoine of the sleeping toddler in the bedroom down the hall.

Maybe they would have just passed out though. He tried to assure himself of that as he made his way from the Spies’ bedroom out to the courtyard. Lunch was being sold at the vendors, where many mercenaries were already gathering in lines. His mind was stuck on what might have happened if they had kept on drinking.

He looked at the tables to find that half of them had at least one unconscious person. Most of them were Demos, but a couple of them were Soldiers. All of them looked like they had been drinking a lot. That was because they were passed out with a hand on a bottle of alcohol.

That was probably how it would have ended, he reminded himself. They would have had so much alcohol in their systems that they would have passed out. He was already pretty drunk. Melisa was fairly drunk as well, definitely farther than he was. Both of them would have been far and beyond. Continuing the alcoholic consumption would have driven them into unconsciousness on the couch.

It was better this way though, he thought. He nodded to himself as he thought about it this way. They had stopped drinking so much. Neither of them had to throw up, as neither of them got sick. Neither of them were so drunk that they could not stand the other in the morning. In fact, Melisa showed no signs of being hung over. Either she was as good at covering it as he was, or she had a higher tolerance for alcohol than he did.

He got in line for a hamburger stand. He was in no mood to drive anymore. He already had to drive himself back to the base. There was no way he was getting behind the wheel of the car again. He was just too stuck in pain. It was bad enough that he had some paperwork to fill out this afternoon. He had trusted himself to get it done within the later hours of the day, but he was not sure if he would get it finished.

“You hear about the show in Hollywood?” a Sniper nearby asked.

“Uh huh,” a Soldier replied.

“A Sniper went,” the Sniper said, “Guy was going on about what he has going on here that he wants to get away from. Whatever that was about, I wasn’t paying attention. I am pretty sure he said he was going to Hollywood though.”

“Hollywood? Hollywood is full of hippies and communists!” the Soldier announced in loud declaration.

“Yea, but it’s in America,” the Sniper replied.

“Then he is lucky to go to the great Nation that is America!” the Soldier went on proudly.

Antoine sighed at the volume of their conversation. Turning to ask them to quiet down would be pointless. None of these men cared how they affected others. In fact, they would take pride in causing him pain just by shouting if he pointed it out.

“So, apparently there are _talent scouts_ around here,” the Sniper explained, “They’re hiring mercenaries to California for that show.”

Antoine started paying attention a bit more. Hearing Hollywood and show should have tipped him off, but he had wanted them to just shut up. Hearing California seemed to catch his attention, finally reminding him that the other Spy was down in California. Whoever they were talking about had gone the same way as Hugh. He wondered who it was.

“Should have taken anybody else, they should!” a Demoman cut into the conversation.

“You know about it?” the Sniper asked.

“They should have taken a real American!” the Soldier announced, puffing out his chest.

“I don’t know much,” the Demoman admitted, “Only about the scouts. They were looking at employees for parts, but I was only asked for information on Snipers, Spies, and Pyros.”

“No Soldiers?” the Soldier inquired.

“Nope, sorry Soldier,” the Demoman shrugged.

“Shouldn’t have taken _that_ Sniper though,” the Sniper said.

“Why not?” the Soldier asked.

Antoine turned his attention to the vendor as he approached the seller. He pointed to the menu on the counter to indicate which meal he wanted. He kept some of his attention on the conversation happening behind him.

“He’s something of a cryptid,” the Sniper explained.

“How is that?” the Demoman asked.

“I don’t know what a cryptid is,” the Soldier announced.

“He’s something of a monster,” the Sniper explained, “And the man is inescapably dangerous. Heard he comes from Silent Hill. Those people are beasts.”

“Aye, I heard about them,” the Demoman replied, “I heard they go insane up on Silent Hill.”

“It’s like an asylum,” the Sniper agreed.

Antoine stepped aside to wait for his meal. He pretended to impatiently wait for the vendor to cook his plate. All the while, he was listening to the three friends talking about this situation with that Sniper from Silent Hill. It was definitely the same Sniper that had been stalking Hugh.

“It’s probably for the best,” the Demoman said.

“What do you mean?” the Soldier asked.

“He’s off to California,” the Demoman said pointedly, “This means he won’t be anywhere in the vicinity of _us_.”

“Right,” the Sniper put in, “Man’s insane. Better off elsewhere. He cannot cause any harm to us.”

“I could take that sack of silent crap on with one hand tied behind my back!” the Soldier announced proudly.

“I’m not so sure about that,” the Sniper shook his head, “Man could wrestle a giant gater with one arm and skin a giant anaconda with the other at the same time. You don’t have to be a genius to understand how dangerous that cretin is, when you give him the upper hand. Actually, I don’t think he needs the upper hand. He just automatically has the upper hand.”

“Now _that’s_ a monster!” the Demoman agreed.

“A monster, no doubt,” the Sniper agreed.

“You knew him firsthand?” the Demoman asked, curiously.

“Not exactly,” the Sniper replied.

“Well, what do you mean then?” the Demoman asked.

“If I ever knew him, I would give the man a taste of my fists!” the Soldier announced loudly.

“I knew _of_ him,” the Sniper explained, patting the Soldier’s shoulder, “I just did not know him personally. I did not want to know the man personally. I knew better than to associate with the men from Silent Hill.”

“I’m not sure I’ve seen any other man from Silent Hill around here,” the Demoman said thoughtfully.

“I’m not sure there _are_ any other men from Silent Hill,” the Sniper replied.

“Women perhaps?” the Soldier asked, finally coming back to the conversation.

“There were never any women up on Silent Hill,” the Sniper insisted.

“Then where are the Silent Hill men then?” the Soldier asked, “You cannot have just a Sniper from a whole base!”

“Maybe there were _two_ Snipers!” the Demoman put in.

“The point is that there are no other men from Silent Hill,” the Sniper insisted, “They’re either dead or…otherwise I don’t know.”

“Dead men tell no tales,” the Demoman chuckled.

“This is not a pirate’s job! Be serious man!” the Soldier announced.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh felt like walking. It seemed like a thing that could help him clear his mind. So, that is what he did. He started from the studio, headed down to the nearby liquor store for cigarettes. After buying a few cheap packs to stock up on, he made his way towards his apartment. He did not intend to go to his apartment just yet, as it was too far away.

He just walked until he could not walk anymore. He took a deep puff of a new cigarette and sighed. He would never be able to quit these damn things. He blamed them for his inability to walk farther. Though in the back of his mind, he knew it was his lack of athleticism.

A bus stop sign caught his eye and he headed towards it. He checked the times and stood by to wait for a bus. According to the schedule, a bus would be along shortly. It would also take him close to his apartment.

He stood in silence for a good twenty minutes. Standing still let the cool air sink into his suit, of which he was partially grateful for. Eventually it began to really sink in and he began to shiver.

“Are you going to steal from a bank on something?” a voice interrupted his silence.

He looked over to a small dark woman with curly hair on top. She was clutching her bag to her breasts, bu thte rest of her body was relaxed. In fact, she had stopped to stand next to him. She kept a calm exterior, confident that her little joke had gone over well.

He decided to jest in turn, “Non, I have simply taken not showing my face in public to the extreme.”

She laughed a little, “I hope you are joking, because I would feel bad for laughing.”

“I never joke,” he decided to layer it on thick, “I would be ashamed to show this ugly mug in public.”

She giggled at that, “Well, I don’t think you’re very ugly under that mask. Probably misunderstood. You probably have a lot going on in your life. Probably just trying to make it by in this world like everybody else.”

He paused, thinking about her words. Despite how generic they sounded, she seemed very insightful. Still, it was a very generic statement. He could have come up with that himself.

“So, you taking a bus in that fancy suit to _get_ robbed?” she teased.

He adjusted his tie, “The suit is necessary to my work.”

“Are you working now?” she asked, rasiing her eyebrows at him.

“Well no,” he admitted, “The work day is over for me.”

“Then why you still wearing that stuffy suit?” she asked.

He looked down at his attire. He always liked being a neat and tidy dresser. There was something to be respected about a man with expensive tastes and well groomed eyebrows. He had not considered changing his usual ensemble.

“Even without the mask, you kind of stick out like a sore thumb,” she explained.

“Noted,” he replied with a nod.

The rumble of a bus caught both of their attentions. He checked the number on the bus and compared it to the schedule. Yes, this was the right bus.

“Welp, this is my bus,” she sighed.

“Mine as well,” he pulled out some coins for the fare.

“Are you stalking me or something?” she teased.

“Dare to dream, Madamoiselle,” he quipped as they stepped onto the bus.

Very little fazed him anymore, but the bus fare had to go into a machine beside the bus driver. He was puzzled for a while, as he tried to figure out what to do with the fare money. He still had to get it to the bus driver after all.

“Not accustomed to buses?” the woman guided his hand to the slot where he was supposed to put the money.

“Thank you,” he said, as he joined her in the seats.

“First time I actually met a man too rich to know how to ride a bus,” she commented.

He frowned at that, “Not rich. I have been without transportation need.”

“Like I said! Rich!” was her giggly reply.

He sighed, but decided against arguing with her. It would benefit nobody, and she seemed too absorbed in her own assessment of him to let it go. He chose to let _this_ battle go. He would save his energy that would have gone towards this for a worthier argument.

“You look like the type who gets all of the girls and swindles them out of their ladyhood,” she commented.

It had been such a long time since somebody had talked about him like that. The last time had been Glenn, back when he was processing the fact that Hugh was gay. Such a weird time for their friendship. It had broken barriers though, bringing them to a better mindset as friends.

He began to wonder how it would have been like if Glenn had been different. What if Glenn had been gay? What if he had had feelings for the BLU Spy? A man could only dream of the possibilities though. Those were dreams for a past that he left behind long ago.

“I have a daughter who would be all over a man as fine as you!’ the woman went on, “How old are you?”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He had not been set up on a date in decades. He was a strapping young lad back then. It had been natural for a well-off man to dress in a suit and tie, presenting himself in a sense of business. Granted, that was an old era that had died away culturally in the twentieth century.

The woman cleared her throat, “Late thirties? Early forties?”

He cleared his throat as he reminded himself that she had asked for his age. He cleared his throat in return, “I was born in the nineteenth century.” It was an answer that held honesty, while not giving away specific information.

“Well _yes_ , I figured as much. I was wondering if you were within the same age range as my daughter,” the woman explained.

He chuckled, as he looked at her. He was covering his absolute confusion. If she knew that he was born in the eighteen hundreds, then she have known that he was older than her _and_ her daughter. Why would she think that he would be suitable for her daughter at this age?

He cleared his throat, “No madam. I am much older than your daughter would be.”

“How old exactly?” she gave him a playful look.

He chuckled, his eyes bouncing from her to the road ahead. The bus stop they were approaching was fairly close to his apartment. He did not want to miss this stop.

“Oh! This is me,” he slipped out of the seat and headed to the front as the bus slowed to a stop.

“See you around,” the woman called after him as he slipped out of the doors.


	18. Confidence is All He Really Needs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What does Hugh really need?

Hugh felt a dreary heaviness on his body as he stared into the milky cereal. He did not want to drag himself out of the apartment. He felt like he was going to need a lot more than just cereal to get any kind of motivation.

Work was no longer work. It was now a prison in which he had to do unconventional chores. What was worse? That Sniper would be there. A monster of sorts, the beast would loom over him and command his attention when he thought he needed it.

The phone’s ring gave him a surprise. It shocked him right out of his train of thought. Maybe that would give him the inspiration needed to just walk down the stairs and out the front door.

He brought the phone to his ear and listened carefully. Old habits died hard. This one told him never to let himself on, not when he could discover who the caller was first. There was no telling who could be on the other end of the line.

“Hugh? Hugh are you there?” Antoine’s desperate voice asked.

It took him aback to hear the man so desperate to hear his voice. What was more, he was surprised that he was using Hugh’s real name. He had fallen towards calling him Jacques as of late.

“Antoine?” he returned the naming curtesy.

“Oh thank God,” the breathy sigh of relief seeped through the phone.

Hugh raised an eyebrow, as he poked around his cereal with the spoon, “It’s good to hear from you too, Antoine.”

“Hugh,” Antione was panting, “I’ve been spending all night researching! I heard- Oh my God! You have to get out of there!”

“Are you going on a religious kick now?” he asked, noticing how the man had dropped the deity into the conversation twice already.

“Hugh, you need to get out of there,” Antoine’s voice grew more and more panicked.

Hugh groaned, “Yes I know, my ride will be here any minute.”

“What? No! You have to leave California! Get to Nevada! Anywhere! Just get out of there!” Antoine shouted in a panic.

“Calm down,” Hugh pushed the bowl of cereal away from himself. It was just soggy wheat in milk by now anyways. “Have you been up all night?”

“Yes, but only doing research. Listen Hugh. That man! Th-th-the man! The Sniper, he’s there,” the man was stammering over his words, befuddling himself.

“Yes, I know,” Hugh answered. But of course he knew, as it was the whole reason he was dreading this day at work.

“Hugh you-! You know?” Antoine’s voice dropped from a panic to utter confusion.

“Yes, I know he’s here,” Hugh replied, with a roll of his eyes.

“He’s in California and he’s been assigned to the same show that you are!” Antoine hurriedly explained.

“ _Yes_ ,” Hugh growled irritably, “I got that much when he showed up on the set!”

“You know already…” the man sounded like he was starting to get how stupid he was to call Hugh _now_.

“Yes,” Hugh sighed and dumped the bowl out, “I have had work the past few days.”

“I thought you didn’t start until next week,” Antoine argued.

“Apparently not,” Hugh argued, “They had me start the day after I landed.”

“Whatever! You need to get out of there,” Antoine insisted.

“What? Why?” Hugh scrunched his brow as he washed the dishes.

“You were right about him,” Antoine insisted, “He’s dangerous. The man is a registered psychopath, and he acts on various…tendencies.”

“We’ve worked with psychopaths for decades,” Hugh argued, with a roll of his eyes, “How is this any different?”

“For one, half of the psychopaths we used to work with were harmless,” Antoine explained, “For two, the other half could not snap the barrel of a rifle clean in half with his bare hands.”

“I’m aware of the man’s strength,” Hugh suppressed a shudder as he looked for his things around the apartment. There was not much in the apartment, nor did this take much searching. For the most part, it simply required him to actually think about where he left his things.

“All of that, _and_ he has a personal interest in you,” Antoine added pointedly.

“No,” Hugh rolled his eyes as he collected his keys, “I didn’t know that.”

“Save the sarcasm, Hugh,” Antoine barked, “I’m worried. If you don’t get out of there, you’re going to end up…well…”

“What? Swimming with the fish?” Hugh chuckled as he stepped out into the hallway to the building and locked his door, “You read the contract. I am still connected to the Global Respawn in Toronto.”

“They probably moved you to the one in New York,” Antoine corrected, “The point _is_ that worse could happen. I’m not talking about a…quick death.”

There was a long silence as Hugh made his way down the stairs. He was listening to the silence on the phone and trying to think of what he was insinuating. His thoughts were pulled away from this upon seeing that his ride was waiting for him at the curb.

“Hugh…” Antoine sounded desperate again, “I’m worried about you. He has a very _personal_ interest in you. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that.”

“I understand that,” he replied, as he slipped into the back seat of the car, “You are telling me things that I already know. Do you have any _useful_ information on him? Any dirt I can use?”

“Hugh, please! I beg of you. Get out of there before he gets any ideas,” Antoine pleaded.

“What do you want me to do? Abandon my job?” Hugh asked, with disinterest.

“You’re going to have to,” Antoine insisted.

“I’ll be fine,” Hugh argued, “I’m not afraid of a little Sniper.” That was a bit bold to say, considering the chills he got whenever the Australian stood too close. “Besides, the only times I am around him are with other people. He won’t do anything inappropriate around me.”

“Hugh, I beg of you, be careful,” at least now Antoine was not begging him to leave California.

“I always am careful,” Hugh argued.

“Good,” Antoine’s breathing was heavy and thick. He may have been crying or otherwise emotionally distraught.

“It’s not like I have let my guard down since I left Toronto,” he went on, watching the world pass the windows of the vehicle, “I knew what that man was capable of, long before you believed me.”

“What? I always believed you!” Antoine protested.

Hugh rolled his eyes, “Yes. Sure you did. And Drake was always a loving boy.”

“Don’t bring my son into this!” Antoine’s voice got loud and angry.

“I’m sorry,” Hugh said simply.

There was a long silence after that. Neither of them wanted to say much to the other. They just stayed like this, in a quiet freeze of their conversation.

Finally, Antoine spoke again, “Look, I’m freaking out over here. The man is a menace on paper and in person. He has forty two strikes, none of which have been resolved in a court.”

“So have many others,” Hugh shrugged.

“Not forty two!” Antoine exclaimed, “The man was a serial killer! He stalked and murdered more than what was accounted for! No doubt he had his eye on enough victims to have destroyed a lineage.”

“What do you want me to do?” he huffed a heavy sigh.

“Just…take this seriously! You’re going to get hurt!” Antoine insisted.

“I’m taking things seriously,” Hugh pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve pressure that would soon turn into a headache.

"Please Hugh," Antoine begged.

"I have to do this job," Hugh sighed, "Besides, I'm safer here than I was there. Even with him here, I have space he can't be in. Not to mention the comfort of not being crowded in the same space with about ten other people. I'm not willing to give that up so easily."

"I wouldn't either," Antoine admitted, then his voice went up towards shouting, "If it didn't have any continence to my safety!"

Hugh rolled his eyes, "Everything will be fine. I'll be fine. The man is being watched by others. He's getting entertained. He'll be a thorn in my side, but I've dealt with enough thorns in my side to deal with this one."

"Promise me you'll call," Antoine pleaded.

"Antoine, I don't remember getting into a relationship with you," he said, picking a piece of unidentified debris from his pants.

An amused chuckle came from the other end of the line. It was a relief knowing that Antoine was not going to take his joke too seriously. That would have been absolutely frustrating for him.

"No," Antoine chuckled, "But call me, please? I'll...put you on the phone with Melisa or something. I just have to know that you're alright."

"Alright," Hugh sighed in reluctance, "I'll call and let you know that I'm doing well."

"If I don't get a call, I'm assuming the worst," Antoine said pointedly.

"Fine," Hugh rolled his eyes, then looked out the window as they approached the studio, "I have to go now. I'm about to start work. If you see Melisa today, let her know I said hello. I do miss her company."

"Will do," Antoine agreed in a soft voice.

“Look, don’t worry about me,” Hugh tried to satisfy Antoine’s frustration as he stepped out of the car, “Anything he tries is going to be on camera. This time, he has to behave. These aren’t the cameras like in Colorado.”

“I know that Hugh, but people don’t watch your back like they watch others’ backs,” Antoine insisted.

“What are you really worried about?” he asked, as he headed towards the studio.

“I’m worried about _you_!” Antoine exclaimed with frustration.

“What? You think I cannot handle myself?” Hugh asked, a little amused at Antoine’s continued concern for his wellbeing.

It felt kind of nice though. It was nice to know that somebody was out there worrying about him. Maybe this was how it was with people who had family members.

He smiled to himself, “Antoine, I give you my word that I will be fine. I will watch my own back. I’ll stay out of trouble and keep my nose clean.”

Antoine sighed, “Alright. Alright, Hugh. I’ll take your word for it.”

Hugh proceeded towards the door to the back stage. He had found a better path from the one he was using before. This path led directly into the back stage area. This way he did not have to pass through the eyes of the audience while not yet in his work wear.

“Now, promise me you’ll be watching out for Melisa,” Hugh insisted, “The woman gets worked up about little things.”

“Oh yea,” Antoine laughed light-heartedly, “The woman was stressing about being all alone for a night. It’s not like she is not alone every night!”

Hugh stopped in his tracks, his hand on the door. He pondered this for a good minute. Melisa had been expressing how lonely she was since they moved her into the ranch house in Canada. It was easy enough to distract her, but Hugh had never considered how Antoine might handle this.

“Antoine, did you…?” he let his words trail off as he questioned the other man’s intentions with Melisa.

“No!” the man on the other end of the line exclaimed with panic, “No no! Nothing happened! We simply had drinks and I fell asleep on the couch. Nothing happened!”

Hugh hesitated, trying to decide whether to believe him or not. After a moment though, he realized that he did not have time to consider it. He had things to do and he was already approaching work. With his hand on the metal door, he needed to do something.

“I have to go,” Hugh insisted, “I am at the door, and I am about to get a broken nose, if somebody comes looking for me.”

“You’re…what?” Antoine asked with confusion and concern.

“Goodbye,” Hugh pressed.

“Goodbye,” Antoine finally replied.

Hugh hung up just in time to open the door and look upon the visage of the wretched man he loathed. He gave the Sniper a snarl, before he made his way to the table of edibles. He wanted some coffee, to distract himself from the need to smoke. Considering all of the smoking he did, it could effect his work if he kept giving into those cravings.

 

 

Most of the day was boring. It dragged on and on in boredom. He did not have any prominent scenes either. He was just in the background, reacting to everything. Rather he did his best to not react, to put on a Spy’s quiet nature. That was the point of a Spy working as a Spy, right? That was the point? It was in his nature, after all. It only seemed like the natural thing that people came to the show to see of him.

The director saw fit to redirect him at every turn. The man did not want the natural attitude of a Spy in the background. He did not care for the silent looming man, who did not smile, snicker or snarl when things were going on. He did not like that he was distant and aloof in each scene, letting the actions of his coworkers in the scenes pass him like clouds. He wanted something that looked like a Spy, but with over-acting. It was frustrating, but it distracted him well enough.

By the end of the day, he was exhausted. He just wanted to drop to the floor and go to sleep. At least at the Toronto base he had no schedule to adhere to. Now he was stuck with this labor.

 

 

At the end of the day, he went for a walk again. He was pleasantly surprised to see the same woman as before. She was shivering in the blue feather down jacket.

“I did not expect to see you on the bus again,” she chuckled.

“No, I didn’t either,” he chuckled. He smiled at her, offering her a gesture in welcome.

“You still haven’t told me how old your are,” she pressed wryly.

He chuckled at her persistence. He could at least admire her candor. The woman set her mind to a thing and she intended to see it through. That was something that not too many people could do. Outside of Mann Co anyways, he did not know many people who were so dedicated to getting things done.

He cleared his throat, “I am a hundred and thirteen years old.”

She threw her head back and laughed. Unable to believe him, she gave him a playful smack on the arm. He frowned at that, as he remembered her accepting that he had been born in the nineteenth century.

“You’re joshing me!’ she laughed. Her face was lit up with cheer.

“No, it’s true,” he insisted.

“When were you born? The seventies? The sixties?” she went on.

“I was born in eighteen ninety five,” he explained.

“Ohhh!” her eyes lit up again, “I get it!”

He sighed in relief. Finally, they were on the same page in this situation. She could finally stop questioning him about his age too.

“You’re an actor, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes alight and her tone mischievous.

He was a little surprised, but did not show it. “Well, yes I am!” he offered her a smile.

“A TV star, right? You act in one of those shows on TV?” she pressed.

“Yes, I do,” the woman was smart to be guessing this so easily.

“I get it!” she exclaimed, “You play an old ghost on that show with the lady who is a medium. What was it called? I can’t remember. Oh! You play some man who died in the early nineteen hundreds, and showed up to get some help crossing over. Is that right?”

He blinked at her in confusion. What on Earth was she talking about? He shook himself as he tried to process her words.

“I’m- No, I’m not on such a show,” he furrowed his brow. Once again, he was at a loss.

“Oh darn,” she snapped her fingers, “I thought I had that!”

He paused, keeping together a calm exterior, “What made you think that?”

“Well, you know. You put out the year from about a hundred years ago. You’re rich so proably an actor anyways. You’re wearing your persona from TV! It’s a no brainer!” she explained eagerly.

He sighed and shook his head, “All things considered, I _am_ my show persona.”

“I knew it!” she snapped her fingers again.

That was when the bus rolled up. The two of them fell silent as they climbed aboard the bus together. This time, Hugh knew where to put the money. He felt glad for his confidence, as he proceeded to the seats.

“So, are you going to tell me how old you _really_ are?” she asked, as he sat down beside her.

He laughed, “If only it fell far from the truth.”


	19. Getting Frustrated by Other Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine gets frustrated at Hugh and traps himself.  
> A Sniper gets frustrated at a Soldier.  
> Oh yea, meet Glenn, Andrew and Drake.

Antoine took a breath as he hung up the phone. What made Hugh think he would do something irresponsible? What foolish hazardous personality did he think Antoine had? It was not as if he had a penchant for trouble!

Sure, he once had a reputation. The men at the Colorado base thought he was some lady killer. They even though Hugh was a lady killer too, because he was some smooth-talking Frenchman. It was just a stereotype. Hugh had to know that all of the talk from their coworkers had been fake. The reputation had been around since he joined Mann Co, and he was faithful to his Roxanne back then.

There had to be some certainty that the other man trusted him. He could not actually think that Antoine would be so stupid with the woman they were protecting. No excuse could make up for it either.

He felt rather betrayed now. Hugh thought that he would do something bad? He thought that he was reckless and irresponsible? Fuck him! He did not have to put up with this bullshit.

He stormed from his office in a hot rage. How dare the man think of him that way, he thought. He thought of all of the places he wanted to punch the other Spy, as he stormed through the building.

Just because Hugh was gay, he could be friends with a woman, but because Antoine was straight he could not? The outrage made him punch the wall by the elevator call button. He winced at the pain in his knuckles. It made his eyes water.

He was not crying though. His eyes were just watery. He was a man, dammit! He bit back tears in the worst of times. He did not wallow in sorrow like the big baby that Hugh was.

When the elevator arrived, he stepped on and turned. He pressed the button for the first floor, then folded his arms over his chest. He simmered in anger as he waited, watching the doors close before him. The noises of the machine were grating, but he put up with them as it started to move.

It moved slowly, making him feel only more impatient. The gathered rage needed something to aim at. He needed somewhere to direct all of his pent up madness and put his hurt somewhere. Yet the elevator refused to let him out, creeping downwards past each floor.

He could not stand it anymore! He needed out! He stepped to the doors and pressed the first-floor button. Anxiety built up as he watched the number light change with each floor.

It felt like the elevator heard his thoughts and became offended, because it suddenly stopped. “What now?” he asked the button panel.

He waited for a minute, hoping it might jump back to life. When nothing happened, he sighed and hit the call button. This would surely sour his day.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The run down old gas station was playing some noisy song on the radio. It was apparently a hit, but it just felt like a bunch of random sounds put together over some girl’s voice. It echoed under the overhang that protected customers from the weather. It bounced back against the single vehicle parked at the pumps.

Leaning against the beat up side of the old camper truck, a lean man waited for his companion’s return. Arms folded over his chest, he kicked at the dirt and watched a cloud of dust dissipate.

All around, stretching as far as the eye could see was a thick layer of dirt. Even the cement under the truck had a thick layer of filth. Mixed into it was oil, gas and perhaps some spit. It smelled like a pit stained shirt thrown on a tarmac.

The ring of the door to the shop opening brought the Sniper from his thoughts. HE looked over to see the Soldier waving, as he leaned out the door. This was the sign that gas had been paid for. He just needed to pump it.

He pushed off of the side of the truck and strolled around the front of the truck. He glanced at the little screen that let him know it was ready, as he picked up the nozzle. The gas tank easily popped open and he slipped the nozzle in to fill it.

He turned to stare out at the vast desert. The heat brought small warm breaths to remind him that there was no relief from it. It beat relentlessly against the red earth, burning the cement to a good warmth. That was, aside from the section shrouded in shadow by the overhanging ceiling. Looking up only brought more pain, because the source fo the desert’s heat was still high overhead.

He stood by the nozzle with his hands tucked into his pockets. He waited patiently, as the tank got mostly filled. It was his last forty bucks, and it would have to last them. He was not sure what they would do once it ran out. Maybe that would be it for the beloved truck. Perhaps that was the end, where they would be forced to abandon his vehicle to trek on foot. He already imagined they would be hard pressed to carry water. Mabye they should prepare with supplies before they leave the station.

The gas stopped flowing with a click. He checked to make sure all forty dollars were used. IF he topped it with change left over, he was going back for the damn change.

He did a double take at the digits, “Fifty seven point thirty two?”

There was no way he could afford ethat. Even if he dug around his camper for change, eh could not come up with enough. What was the difference though? Ten dollars?

He did not have time to count, before the shop’s bell went off again. He looked up to see the Soldier again. HE was carefully guiding the crutch addled Scout down a step. He shifted from foot to foot as he watched, deciding what to say to the man he had trusted with his money with.

“Thanks Solly,” the Scout said, moving his crutches blindly and carefully forward.

“Not to worry, son!” the Soldier replied in an eager manner.

“Oh man! Those hot dogs smell amazing!” the Scout went on.

“At the camper,” Soldier insisted, “Glenn probably wants to get going.”

He was not happy that Soldier made the claim, but he was not far off. Glenn did not like hanging in an area for long. Mann Co had their claws in everything in every nook and cranny. They got away with murder on a daily basis too. H ewas not waiting for his death sentence to come around.

“Hurry! Hurry!” the Scout tried to lope with his crutches, but fumbled and fell face first.

The Soldier leaped over to the Scout’s aid. He was not able to stop his fall, but he quickly made sure that no serious damage had occurred. He made it clear that he was offering his hand, then waited for the blind and crippled man to choose whether or not to accept the assistance. It made the Sniper feel guilty as he shook himself out of a stupor.

The Soldier was a kind and good-hearted man. He was always first to collect comrades off the battlefield. That was what set him apart from other mercenaries that Glenn had known.

He held back, feeling his face turn red. He was man enough tot ell the Soldier off for a mistake, but he did not have the heart to punish somebody so good. The man was a walking saint, if saints could kill men with large grins on their faces. As a mercenary, the Soldier was good at killing. As a man, he was good at caring about others.

This was probably why the fatherly position of caring for the Scout fell to the boisterous man. Only _he_ had the patience to wait on the Scout. Only _he_ had the kindness not to tell the snotty brat off. Glenn could not stand the younger man most days. He often got on his nerves, and Glenn could tell when it was meant to purposefully tick him off.

The Soldier helped Scout to his feet and the younger man resumed his race to the camper. The Soldier did his best to keep up, so that he could prevent another fall. He was smiling all the while, glad to let Scout be an idiot for a minute fo falsified bliss.

Ever since the incident, Scout had been crippled and dependent on others. Most of the time, he stuck close to the Soldier. Other days, eh got his old attitude back, like today. On those days, the Soldier was hard pressed to stay on his toes and keep the Scout out of trouble.

“You had enough to go over the gas price, _and_ to buy hotdogs?” Glenn inquired.

Soldier threw his thumb over his shoulder at the store, “Engie lent us some money.”

“Engie?” the Sniper did a double take. He had been trying ot share the RED in civilian overalls since Texas. It seemed that Engineer Dexter Dooley was one too persistent to stay close to the Soldier to let them go.

“Yea, him and doc are inside,” Scout answered.

Glenn growled and kicked one of the tires. Dexter Dooley was a pain in his ass. The man had chased them after they all split up. As it was, Glenn would not hand over what he wanted, the Soldier.

“You uh…” the Scout hesitated, eyes rolling about blindly, “Never mind. Solly, how about those hotdogs?”

“Climb inside, and you can have yours,” the Soldier answered, as he opened the camper’s door, “Glenn, we got you a hotdog. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

Glenn wanted to give biting words to fight back against this, given that this was because of Dexter Dooley’s money. His stomach disagreed with him though. Having fudged on breakfast, they were all fairly hungry. As of late, Sniper had been pretending that he did not need as much food as most of the others. He had ended up scrimping himself down to a smaller amount for each meal.

“Thanks, Solly,” he replied, giving the man a small nod. He did not want to look him in the eye, knowing how guilty he was of thinking so selfishly when the Soldier showed so much caring. “Think we should hit the road quick,” he added.

Once the Scout was inside the camper, the Soldier came towards the Sniper. His face was fully showing, allowing Sniper to see that weird way his eyebrows drew in. Was it concern? Or perhaps worry? Was it something on the Soldier’s mind? Was it just frustration about how the Sniper was acting? Glenn would not have blamed him for feeling frustrated. Glenn was feeling frustrated that he was not better at reading peoples’ faces.

“I know you want to get away from Dooley,” the Soldier stated, as if he had discovered some big secret.

“Sure? And?” Glenn pressed, challenging the Soldier to deny him his right to get away from the Engineer.

“I know you don’t like him, but he has offered us help,” the Soldier insisted.

“We don’t need _his_ help,” the Sniper insisted sternly.

“Yes we do, son,” the Soldier glanced over his shoulder at the camper door. Right, the man had somebody else to worry about in this scenario. “He’s offered us a couple of rooms at the nearby motel. He and doc are staying there a few nights before they head up to Nevada.”

“Well good, we can head backwards and lose them,” Glenn responded, glad that something had come out of this meeting.

“I think we should take the offer,” the Soldier said firmly.

“I’m not of any mind to accept charities from _Dooley_ ,” the Sniper growled irritably.

“We’ve been dragging our asses from coast to coast,” the Soldier’s voice got just a little louder, with something of a commanding element to it, “We have been traveling non-stop. We have been running from Mann Co, but we have also been running from your fears of people you don’t know.”

“I ain’t afraid of Dooley,” Glenn puffed up his chest to try and be intimidating. No matter, because the shorter man still seemed more commanding and intimidating than himself. “I ain’t afraid of that doc either.”

The Soldier’s lip twitched as his eyes narrowed, “I suggest you get to know them then. You’ll be spending the next few nights at the motel with the lot of us.”

Glenn froze, feeling trapped. He was not stuck in an icy kind of trap, but one where he was legitimately confused and concerned. He should not want to stay in one place for very long. In fact, he really wanted to get out of the state that Dooley was in. He wanted to get to the next gas station quickly too.

The Soldier had not even a moment of suggesting the logical reasoning and the Sniper could already think of it. Scout was in no position to take care of himself. He was reliant on them, so asking them to give him a rest was out of the question. They were all tired and hungry. Not to mention the lack of bathing had led them to use cold water soaked towels, about once a week though. Given the heat in the camper and the low use of the cooler, since that took so much gas, they had been sweating pigs and his camper had developed an awful stink.

Glen studied the sharp blue eyes before him. It was a wonder that the Spy had fallen for this man. Perhaps that was just his type though. Perhaps he liked men like this, who were strong and demanding on a moment’s notice. He thought it was most likely the Soldier’s penchant for selflessness.

“And what would bring Dooley to offer such a kindness to us?” Glenn put as much sour toxins on his words as he could muster.

The wrinkles on the Soldier’s face tightened, “You know damn well why. You know damn well what Dooley wants. I am not pathetically stupid about why we’ve been running for so damn long. I am also not going to let up the opportunity to stop running for a short break.”

The expression softened. The wrinkles became a little less evident. The Soldier even seemed to move back a little bit, giving the Sniper space and moving off with his pressure.

“The motel has hot showers, warm beds, a swimming pool, free breakfasts, and television. Our only worry will be lunch and dinner,” the Soldier’s voice was softer now as he explained this.

“Did Engie sell it to you like that?” the Sniper’s last stab at this was faulty, as his voice was not as strong as he would like it to be.

“Perhaps he did,” the Soldier admitted with a shrug, “But he would not lie to me. Why would he? Now, I’m going to go inside for hot dogs. You’re welcome to join us. When we leave this lot, we’re going to that motel. We’re parking for three days, and the camper doesn’t move until we’ve rested.”

Glenn chewed on his lip. He felt like some distant ghost watching himself as he felt his head bob. The Soldier gave a small smile of approval before heading into the camper, leaving the Sniper to clean up. He closed the gas tank and tried to shake the jitters he got.

Soldier rarely if ever stood up to anyone. He was usually shouting like a madman. Lately he had been holding back. One could only guess that it was because he did not want to upset Scout, as if the man was a mere boy who needed a good example of a father.

Glenn kicked the tire of his truck before two figures caught his eye. The bell to the store rang as Dexter Dooley and the RED Medic came out of the gas station’s shop. It seemed like there was no better time to give them a piece of his mind.

He stormed over to Dooley, who was immediately surprised by the Sniper’s approached. The Medic took him in with momentary concern, but continued without a care to a small truck parked on the gravel to the side of the shop. Glenn just about ran over Dooley, causing the man to back up out of fear.

“The hell do you think you’re doing?” Glenn growled angrily.

“Not taking the offer, I see?” Dooley asked nervously.

Glenn rubbed his dry lips together as he thought about how to respond. He could not just say they would not take it, not when the Soldier was adamant about taking the offer. He did not want to let Dooley off of the hook either. The man quivering in some fear before him was kind of entertaining.

“Oh, we’ll be taking that offer,” he growled, leaning down to get close to the Engineer’s face, “We’ll be taking a three day vacate at the motel. I’ll be seeing you there. Every chance you get to see Soldier, I’ll be right there. We’ll be right there in the same building. And should the thought arise to mess around with the Soldier…” He curled his lip in a manner that imitated a wolf’s snarl.

He saw the man’s Adam’s apple move up and down. He smiled a little at that. He understood what it meant when men swallowed like that.

“Let’s just keep those thoughts between you and me,” Glenn suggested softly, “And we don’t have to come to any… _confrontations_.”

The engineer hesitantly nodded in response. He did not seem to want to say anything. The terror in his eyes said it all. It was satisfying to say the least.

“I’ll see you there,” he gestured in farewell, before he headed to his truck.

He was brimming with satisfaction as he approached the truck. He was smiling as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The grin was surprised off his face when the Soldier put a wax paper wrapped hotdog in front of his face. He took it hesitantly and looked at the suspicious face gazing at him.

“What did you say to Dooley?” the Soldier asked.

Glenn swallowed down his words. Oh right, the Soldier was not blind. He also did care about other people in ways that a mercenary like the Sniper does.

“Well?” the Soldier pressed.

“I told him we would be seeing him at the motel,” he replied. That was half true, but he did not want to reveal the rest.

The Soldier settled into his seat. He huffed a bit then settled with a smile. He started eating his hotdog.

Glenn set his own hotdog down on the center console. He would eat it later. He put the truck into drive and started down the road and around the block to the little motel.

“So, uh…where are we going?” Scout called from the couch in the living space.

“We’re going to the motel!” the Soldier announced with a big smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey ya'll! I haven't been using the notes a lot lately. It has felt like a moot point.
> 
> I have a reason to use it this time though.
> 
> I have decided to edit my works from Mann Co Productions Presents and turn them into original works. The original fanfiction will remain where it is until I decide whatever I really want to do with it.
> 
> More information is available here: http://madoushi-ryuu.wixsite.com/treasurehuntprod


	20. The Drama is Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drama is unfolding and becoming more and more real on stage and backstage.

Hugh raised his head to look up from the papers in his hands. He was going over story notes with Nathan. Apparently, the Director wanted him to add some drama to a scene with the Heavy. Nathan’s notes were making it a little too comedy driven though.

“No go ahead,” the Sniper said, gesturing at him with a fluid outward movement of his fingers, “Enjoy watching you work.”

Hugh frowned at him, feeling a grating sensation in the back of his mind. He wanted to chomp down on his teeth and grind them together. He knew it would do no good. It would probably just feed the Sniper’s enjoyment, as he grinned stupidly at him.

“I have work to do, so please leave,” Hugh said, in as monotone a voice as he could manage.

“I’m not harming anybody,” the Sniper protested, with that grin still plastered across his face.

“I would still rather you kept a fair distance,” Hugh protested, rising to his feet.

“What are you insinuating?” Sniper’s grin faltered, as he folded his arms over his chest.

“Is it not clear?” Hugh asked, carefully weighing his directional options to move in, “I don’t trust you. I thought I made that very clear.”

“I’ll tell you what’s clear,” the Sniper said, squaring up his shoulders.

“No, you won’t,” Hugh took the opportunity to slip by the Sniper, moving to a distance where he felt safer. He was well out of the man’s range and not in any vulnerable position in this way.

“I think you would find my explanation satisfying,” the Sniper’s voice went to a low growl, and the edges of his lips curled upward.

“I think not,” Hugh responded, turning his attention to Nathan, “I think we should proceed at another time.”

“Uhh…” Nathan glanced between the Spy and the Sniper with confusion clear on his face, “Okay then.”

“Don’t let _me_ ruin your good time,” the Sniper teased.

“Not at all,” Hugh replied dismissively.

“You boys aren’t starting nothing, are ya?” the Engineer spoke up, interrupting whatever this conversation was.

Hugh turned to the shorter man with a small kind smile, “Not at all. Not starting anything.”

“Yea, no!” Nathan put in, with an eager tone.

“We’re not starting anything,” Sniper’s tone rose in pitch and his arms tightened over his chest.

“You better play nice, remember?” the Engineer insisted, with a firm tone.

“But of course,” Hugh insisted. He was not the one instigating anything, and he would not be starting any fight.

“Nobody’s starting anything over here, Engie,” the Sniper insisted firmly.

“Alright,” the Engineer still held suspicion in his tone. Despite his goggles covering his eyes, Hugh could tell that he was looking between the two of them, studying them and weighing their words for worth of honesty. “I better not hear anymore bickering between nobody back here.”

“You act like they’re children or something,” Jennifer appeared to cut into the conversation.

“Nobody asked you, Jen,” Nathan replied.

“Don’t think anybody asked you either, Nathan,” Jennifer replied with a taunting and snide tone.

Hugh raised his hands, “Whatever the case, there is no fighting.”

“We weren’t bickering,” the bitter Sniper was nearly snarling by now, his demeanor completely different from before.

“ _That_ we can agree on,” Hugh added, with an affirmative nod.

“It ain’t nothing you gotta bother yourself with, Jennifer,” the Engineer tipped his hardhat to her.

“Don’t talk down to me like some nineteen fifties chick!” the woman turned on the Engineer, with a quickly fluctuating tone.

“I meant no disrespect,” the Engineer’s demeanor changed, as he tried to appease the affronted woman.

“Nobody is treating you like a nineteen fifties chick, Jennifer!” Nathan rose to his feet and took a couple of steps towards Jennifer.

“Look, just because you got attention on you doesn’t mean anything, Nathan,” Jennifer turned to Nathan, gesturing angrily at him.

“Nobody- What the hell are you freaking talking about?” Nathan exclaimed.

“You’re such a fucking weirdo,” Jennifer lowered her tone as she turned the cold shoulder to Nathan, dismissing him completely.

“What the hell is your problem?” Nathan exclaimed, dumbfounded by her behavior.

“Now now!” the Engineer raised his hands to Nathan and Jennifer in hopes of calming them down, “No need for everybody to get riled up. We are all at work and there’s work to be done!”

“Nobody asked you, Engie,” Jennifer’s snide tone returned as she snapped at the stocky laborer.

“Don’t yell at him! He didn’t do anything to you!” Nathan shouted at her, “Nobody did anything to you! Stop yelling at people!”

“Look who’s yelling,” Jennifer taunted.

“I’m not the one snapping at people like a bitch, Jen!” Nathan’s slightly Scout-like façade was failing him now. Hugh had almost overlooked the façade, as the young man seemed to enjoy pretending to be a Scout full time.

“Nobody is here to help your freaking ego, Nathan,” Jennifer continued berating Nathan, ignoring his previous statement.

“What are you even going on about?!” Nathan proclaimed angrily.

“Would you two cut it out!” the Engineer raised his voice higher.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” another staff member cut in, “What is going on here?”

“Nathan started this!” Jennifer pointed to the other actor.

“What? Not me! I didn’t start this!” Nathan proclaimed.

“Well, I didn’t start it, you fuckhead!” Jennifer exclaimed in frustration.

“You came at me! Remember?” Nathan raised his voice again.

“You two, cut it out!” the staff member put himself physically between them, as if they might lurch at each other’s throat.

The Sniper gave a chuckle as he watched the bickering unfold. Hugh looked at him with a frown. When the Sniper caught him looking his way, he grinned with delight. Oh, he was so delighted that he caught the Spy’s attention. It made Hugh shudder.

He turned his attention away from the Sniper. The insufferable man was watching him though. He could feel the weight of the taller man’s eyes on him.

He was not sure why he had this sudden urge to hug himself. He felt afraid and he did not know what to do about it. It was different now, as if even with others around, the Sniper might crawl in under his skin.

It was different. The Sniper could not only get under the Spy’s skin, but apparently create distractions. He could get to him while others were around. He could make everything creepier in public than Hugh had ever thought possible.

He glanced around, analyzing the positions of the other members. It would have been easy to slip away undetected. That was, if not for the Sniper’s attention consistently remaining on him. The one man he wanted to escape from had his eyes on him. Any escape he made could become a trap, especially if he headed out back to where nobody was.

He thought about the trailers. Each actor got his or her own trailer. They were all given a space where they could relax and get changed. He had only used his trailer for changing so far, but maybe he could use the lock to keep the Sniper away from him.

He huffed a sigh as he glanced at the door. If he casually made his way out, the Sniper would probably do the same. He would follow him right out the door while everybody was distracted. He would have to make a dash from the door to the trailer to make sure the Sniper did not overrun him.

“Spy!” a voice interrupted his thoughts, “You’re up!” A staff member approached him and took him by the elbow, guiding him towards the door to the stage.

“Huh? What? What is this?” he asked, confounded by the sudden change.

“Have any of you been paying attention? Heavy has just gotten done yelling at Medic about Nurse,” the staff member explained, “He is alone in the respawn room, and very depressed. This is your chance to soak the scene in drama.”

“Drama? Oh, right. Got it,” he said, trying to center his thoughts on the task at hand.

“Heavy has just finished having his argument,” the staff member reaffirmed, opening the door for him, “Get out there and break a leg!”

“I should hope I don’t,” Hugh stumbled through the door onto the stage.

Hugh did not realize what it meant until immediately after he spoke. It did not matter though, as he stepped out onto the stage. It was time to stop thinking about what was on the other side of the door, because now he was on the stage and it was time to work.

He cleared his throat, just before he heard the crowd erupt into cheers. He turned to look out past the lights. The crowd was shadowed, but he could see many of their faces. A pair of women in their mid-thirties stood up with a sign written with a heart and the word Spy scrawled across it.

“We love you Spy!” the women screamed together.

He gave an awkward smile and gently waved at them. The whole crowd was cheering though, as if they agreed with them. He was not sure why though. He listened, trying to decipher what the tone should be as he proceeded.

“Spy, we’re sitting on the scene after Medic has stormed off camera,” the Director gestured to the Medic, who was standing out of the view of the cameras, “We need you to come in. Don’t be boisterous. The tone is very grave right now. Give Heavy some words of advice.”

“Right, I’ve got that,” Hugh nodded in agreement.

“Remember, grave tone,” the Director repeated.

“Yes, I understand,” Hugh insisted.

“Alright!” the Director clapped his hands together and moved out of line of sight of the camera.

Hugh sighed as he moved out of the line of the camera’s sight. He looked over at the Heavy, who was sitting on the bench in front of the fake lockers. The man shifted his position on the bench to get more comfortable.

Hugh took a breath before strolling onto stage. He held confidence as he approached the locker props. Most of them were empty, so he figured he could use one to pretend that it was his. He casually opened the locker, and started to reach inside.

One eye was trained on the Heavy now, seeing that he was out of sight. Perfect, this was just how he would do it in a natural situation. That thought made him want to smile, but he kept his expression unreadable.

“Cut cut!” the Director called out.

Hugh turned, “What?”

“Don’t interact with the lockers,” the Director pointed at the lockers themselves, “Just walk in and talk to the Heavy.”

Hugh took a breath. How frustrating. This man knew nothing of subtlety. Granted, this man probably knew nothing of Spy work. It was surprising that any real mercenary could work with this man.

“I think not,” Hugh closed the locker and turned to the man standing by a camera.

“What?” the Director demanded, sounding offended by the refusal.

“If I am the Spy, then I must _be_ a Spy,” Hugh insisted.

“You’re here to promote drama, not ‘be the spy,’ Spy,” the Director made mocking gestures.

“I’m to do both,” Hugh protested, “And if the viewership wanted to see anything less, then you would have an average actor with a ski mask on this stage. I am a professional with Spy work.” He hoped that everybody was ignoring his wording in that last part. “You want me to walk in like some Joe Dean with a penchant for drama?” He turned to the audience, “Does that _sound_ like a Spy thing to do?”

“No!” the crowd roared and cheered.

The Spy gestured to the crowd as he turned his attention back to the Director, “A little subtlety please.”

The Director came onto the stage, “This will mess with the pace of the scene.”

“You wanted the _Spy_ to get involved,” Hugh replied, “Well, here I am!”

The Director rolled his eyes, “Fine, we’ll try the scene your way.”

Hugh nodded and waited for the Director to return to his place. He moved out of the shot, getting into position to do it again. This time, he only made to open the locker. He had an eye on the Heavy already, who was dutifully pretending to silently and tearlessly weep over his conundrum with his lover.

He moved away from the locker, “A problem, Heavy?”

The Heavy quickly picked up his head, “No…no problem.”

“Oh?” he moved smoothly around the bench, letting each footstep ring on the stage floor, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing matter,” the Heavy insisted, playing his part as a stubborn character.

“Ahh,” the Spy hummed, “The lovers’ quarrel. The time sweetened tale of romances built and romances destroyed.”

There was silence as the Heavy listened. He was turning to him, intrigued by his words. These were not even words he had thought up with Nathan. This was just sort of coming to him on the spot. Thinking about the situation as if it were real was helping a lot too. It was hard to look at the Heavy and the Medic and not think that perhaps they were actually together in their personal lives.

“The Medic troubles you?” he asked, trying to offer a tone of compassion.

The Heavy turned away a bit, folding his hands together as he looked down through them, “Like to think is not problem. Like Medic says, it’s not real. I am paranoid. Is not problem.”

“Is it though?” the Spy inquired, pressing the matter with a poignant tone.

“What is Spy saying?” Heavy asked, raising an eyebrow, “What do you know?”

“I am Spy,” Hugh gestured with a hand in a dismissive but suave manner, “I know everything.”

“What do you know about doctor?” the man’s voice got low, his tone a low growl. The warning was there in his voice.

“I might know a few things,” Hugh shrugged, moving nonchalantly away from the Heavy, “For the right price, Heavy can know a few things too.”

“Heavy…” the bigger man got to his feet. His size was so massive that the movement itself took a lot of attention.

Hugh turned to face him. He gave him an inquisitive expression. Working with the Heavy really made this feel real, as the man acted so realistically, and without drama. Perhaps it was because of his big voice, his gigantic stature and his fearsome state that allowed him to act more naturally for the drama.

“Heavy _knows_ things,” the man hesitated, chewing on his lip, “Heavy cannot prove these things.”

“Proof?” Hugh put on a small mischievous smile as he walked towards the Heavy again, “You want proof?”

The man hesitated for a while. His eyes shifted around, while his expression changed a few times. This man was really good at acting like this was all real and natural to him.

“Da,” the man finally answered, “Heavy wants proof. Proof of Medic. Proof of what he does. Proof that Heavy is not paranoid liar!”

Hugh grinned and patted the Heavy’s chest with the back of his hand, “Worry not, my dear friend. I will retrieve this proof for you, or keep trying if it does not exist.”

The Heavy hesitated, unsure of what to do. Finally he grunted and said, “Very good!”

With a parting nod, the two moved to opposite sides of the stage. The audience started cheering and applauding. When Hugh looked, he saw a few excited faces looking like they were still trying to come out of the moment they just watched. That reminded him that this was no longer an act for the sake of survival, but for their entertainment.

The Director came to the Spy, with a clipboard in hand, “I gotta say, that was spectacular. I underestimated the setup.”

“Thank you, Director,” he gave a mock bow to the man, before making his exit to the back stage.

“Oh man! You killed it out there!” Nathan immediately greeted him with a big smile and an offered high five.

Hugh smacked his hand and let himself be dragged off to the lounge couches. He figured they would end up talking and talking about the scene and how he told off the Director. They would have some laughs before it was time for Nathan to go break some tension in a scene.


	21. Motel Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang settles into a little motel for a few days. Glenn turns on the TV to find he likes to watch drama.

The motel was not too shabby, despite being in such a small town that it could almost be called a village. It had a nice clean pool that some kids were playing in now. Some other guests were staying here too, though they seemed like the city living types who came for taking pictures and seeing weird sights. Seeing the three mercenaries was apparently a very weird sight for them.

They almost got overlooked too. The Engineer was in casual overalls with a ball cap. The Medic was over dressed for a casual day, but still did not look like a doctor in any sense of the word. Scout was on his crutches, looking like an average young adult. Andrew was even dressed down to a button up short sleeved t-shirt and jeans, making himself appear like one of the civilians.

Glenn found himself trapped before a set of cameras as a young woman pointed him out. His hat, his boots and the old shark tooth necklace he bought when he was on vacation in California all pointed to him being out of place here. The young woman went further in identifying him as a Sniper.

The reactions from the others were mixed. Andrew was neutral about it, being his giddy self. Scout immediately took the spotlight, trying to garter their attention. It was the Engineer who had the good sense to open their room door and pull them inside.

Glenn sighed with relief. He already felt drained of his energy and sanity. He wanted to just lay down and have a nap.

“They seemed nice,” Andrew grinned.

“Hey, I was going to give those ladies an autograph,” the Scout pouted.

“Drake, if you cannot see, how will you give an autograph?” Andrew inquired.

“Oh…uh…good point,” Drake admitted.

“Looks like you boys need to work on your blending skills,” Dooley teased.

“I have a normal shirt and jeans!” Andrew pointed to his own attire.

“I see that, Sol,” Dooley grinned, “You look mighty fine in it.”

“Watch yourself,” Glenn growled in warning.

Dooley immediately put up two hands, “I’m not an expert in disappearing, but I think you might want to work on your attire, son.”

“My attire is fine,” Glenn growled.

“She picked you out like a mongoose in a chicken pen,” Dooley teased.

“I suppose you do look something of the mongoose type out here,” the Medic added, “You should probably take off the hat and necklace.”

Dooley nodded in agreement, “I think down here you can get away with the boots and the glasses. Those other accessories are going to get you found out though.”

Drake chuckled, “Guess you gotta find a new hat, huh?”

“Maybe I’ll take yours,” Glenn teased, tugging on the younger man’s ball cap.

“Hey no! That’s mine!” the Scout struggled to keep his ball cap on.

“Well,” Dooley cleared his throat, “We’ll leave you boys to settle in. We’re having dinner tonight at the little Chinese place down the street. Heard they have good food there, if you’d like to join us.”

Glenn hesitated. Chinese food was always expensive. Between the three of them, he was not sure he could afford it.

“I’ll pay of course,” Dooley insisted.

“Of course,” Glenn said, just to spite the smaller man.

“Look! There is an extra door here!” Andrew brought their attention to the extra door in the room.

Glenn took a quick look around. A small kitchenette with a microwave and tiny fridge. Complementary water with plastic cups had been sorted on a small white table. There were two beds, neither of which could fit two people, and neither of which he would be comfortable sharing.

“That’s the other room,” Dooley explained, “Figured you boys can’t share a bed so um…this one’s a family set. Parents like to keep eye on their kids.”

“Cool! I can have my own room!” Drake exclaimed, turning his cap backwards. He quickly hobbled into the other room.

“You cannot be alone,” Andrew protested, following the younger man into the other room.

“What?” Drake exclaimed.

“Drake, we are not going to baby you, but you are blind and an invalid!” Andrew replied.

“I’m not an invalid!” Drake exclaimed, “Invalids are like stuck in bed. That’s why they’re like…invals or something. I want a space of my own for once!”

“We can’t afford that,” Andrew insisted, his tone growing sad and grave.

“Oh come on!” the Scout spat, “Just once, I’d like to have a space for myself!”

“You can barely get around on your own,” Andrew went on, “How will you find the bathroom?”

Drake sighed, “Yea…yea…you got a point.”

Glenn turned his attention back to the two men in the room. The Medic looked like he wanted to leave. Dooley looked like he wanted to go talk to Andrew again.

“So Chinese at…six?” Glenn asked.

“Sure thing,” the stout man gave him a toothy lopsided grin, “See you then!”

With that, he led the Medic out of the room. The two said nothing more as they made their way to whatever room they were staying in. Glenn decided not to think about those two and turned his attention to the two men in the next room.

He stepped into the room to see the despairing Scout sitting on one of the two small beds and Andrew looking sadly at him. The pitiful view made Glenn feel a bit irritable. He could only imagine how it would feel if _he_ were stuck like Drake and unable to be left alone for long.

“Soldier and I will share the other room,” Glenn insisted.

“What?” Andrew’s head whipped around to look at him.

“Just leave the door open,” Glenn insisted.

“Alright!” Drake bounced on the bed excitedly.

“I’m not sure if that is such a good idea,” Andrew said with hesitation.

“It’ll be fine, mate,” he reached over to give the Soldier’s elbow a tug, “Let him have the space.”

Andrew looked at the younger man, then agreed to follow. It was not long before he was called back to help Drake with something though. It seemed that Andrew was not going to get away from helping the younger man so easily.

Glenn tried to ignore it. He stretched out on the bed farthest from the door. He took the remote and turned on the television. The paper sign on the wall boasted five hundred channels on the television, yet as he flicked through them there was nothing that struck his fancy.

He had just passed a wrestling match and was about to go back when the title came on for a show on the channel it was currently on. “Mann Co Productions Presents,” he read aloud, “ _House of Nine_. House of nine? What is that about?”

Most of the shows from Mann Co had obvious names that spelled out either where they were recorded or what kind of fights one could see. Glenn usually ignored these, but thought it was important to at least know what was playing. If it was playing here, that might mean that there was a base nearby. That could either be a good thing or a terrible thing.

The screen presented names, along with a message saying that the show was filmed in front of a life audience. That surprised him, though he did not think that Mann Co was above lying. It was likely for them to lie about their shows. They certainly lied about how most of them are made.

He only intended to watch five minutes of it. Maybe he would see somebody he knew. Maybe he could get an idea of where this base was. Maybe it would just be a waste of time.

It wasted so much of his time though. Before he knew what he was doing, two hours had passed. This was brought to his attention when a beer was handed to him.

“You won’t be driving, so I figured you’d like a beer,” Andrew said, as the offering was accepted.

Glenn looked at the clock to see that it had been two hours. Really? Two hours? He popped the top off of his beer and took a long drink. It was good and cold.

“Been saving these in the cooler,” Andrew plopped on his own bed, “You like watching these shows?”

“What?” Glenn still felt like he was waking up from a stupor.

“I didn’t know you watched Mann Co programs,” Andrew pointed to the television as the show came back from commercial.

“Oh…yea I don’t,” he answered, taking a sip of beer.

“You’re watching one now,” Andrew pointed out.

“Yea,” Glenn hesitated as he looked at the Medic and Heavy fighting on screen. They were arguing loudly, neither of them considering any weapons or anything. “I just flicked it on. It was on. It’s different from the other shows.”

“How is it different?” Andrew asked.

“I think it’s scripted,” Glen explained, “There’s no fighting, except the arguing here.”

“No fighting?” Andrew frowned at the screen, “Then what’s the point?”

“I think it’s drama,” Glenn offered, “Life of mercenaries off the battlefield, I guess. Just scripted.”

Andrew just grunted in response, then drank his beer. The two of them sat in silence, while the Heavy and Medic boastfully yelled at each other. They were yelling in the respawn room no less. If this were real, they would not even be yelling about it, lest the wrong people found out.

The next scene was the Heavy Weapons Guy sitting alone in the respawn room. A suave lean figure strolled out onto the screen. The devil was eyeing the Heavy, but went for one of the lockers. It could have been his or not, either way he did not actually open one, choosing to stroll behind him.

Glenn smirked as he watched the Spy. He tried to decipher what he was thinking. There was no doubt the snake knew something was going on. If he was not tipped off to the shouting match, then it was by the Heavy’s forlorn appearance. Even Glenn could see that the Heavy was blue.

“A problem, Heavy?” the thick French accent had an intriguing allure.

“Nothing matter,” the Heavy was blunt and to the point. Glenn thought he might be playing up how little he understood English though.

“Ahh,” the Spy hummed. His voice was somehow relaxing and gave Glenn a good feeling. “The lovers’ quarrel. The time sweetened tale of romances built and romances destroyed.”

Andrew spat his beer in a sudden spray. Glenn looked at him dumbfounded. What the hell was wrong with him?

“The Medic troubles you?” the Spy broke a silence with a tone that was sweet and soft and kind.

Glenn turned back to the TV as the voice tickled his memory. That tone was not just familiar. That tone was one Hugh used when he was comforting Glenn. It was how he spoke when he wanted somebody to feel better, or to think he wanted them to feel better.

“Spy!” he exclaimed, at the same time as Andrew was shouting “Hugh!”

They looked at each other, each of them feeling an instance of panic and confusion. The Spy they both knew was on the show on television. Why was beyond them as of yet, but they could find him.


	22. Company; What do we do?

Hugh decided to take the bus today. He enjoyed the ride in a strange way. Maybe it was the graying woman he met. Her company was pleasant.

He had just settled by the bus stop, when he realized that he was followed. Why though? He glanced over at the Engineer warily. The man was minding his own business. But why was he here? He must have followed Hugh for something. What that was fell beyond his perimeter of knowledge.

Thankfully, it was the Engineer who broke the silence, “You can stop eyeing me, Spook.”

Hugh quickly turned his eyes away. It had been a while since anybody had spoken to him like he was a ruthless killer to be wary of. He had not missed it in the slightest.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” the Engineer adjusted his coat, shivering.

“What flattery would that be?” Hugh asked.

The Engineer let out a hearty chuckle, “You’ve been spending a mite too much time with Nathan.”

Hugh shrugged off the man’s words, “An okay sense of humor. A positive personality. He might as well be a toned down Scout.”

The Engineer’s coat shuffled again, “Hmph. You had a Scout pal back at your previous workplace?”

Hugh shot him a glare. He rarely got along with Scouts. Even Antoine’s kid was a pain in the ass.

“No? I guess it’s just me then,” the Engineer chuckled again, “Kidding of course.”

The two of them fell silent, waiting for the bus. It was odd that they were standing side by side, but he Engineer must not have noticed. Hugh had noticed though. He also noticed that the Engineer had yet to answer for the unspoken question that hung in the air between them. Still, they both remained silent.

It was not long before that woman arrived. Before Hugh could say a thing, the Engineer tipped his beanie capped head and said, “Evening, Mrs. Daily.”

“Well! Fancy seeing you here again, Rolland! Thought I wouldn’t ever see you again! You’ve been gone so long, I’ve already changed my hair!” she teased.

Hugh quirked an eyebrow at the Engineer. Rolland, huh? The Spy would not comment on the reveal of the man’s name. It seemed the man was previously a regular on this bus though. At least the tension was lowered, seeing how everybody had been introduced.

The Engineer did not seem to realize this though, as he gestured to Hugh, “This here is um…”

She wore a coy smile as she spoke, “Oh yes, we have met. This is the masked actor hiding from paparazzi.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously, “I’m not hiding from anybody.” Granted he would have been here hiding, but the man he intended to disappear from had followed him to California.

“Sure you aren’t,” she teased.

“That’s why you got the mask on!” the Engineer joined in on the jesting.

“Not you too,” Hugh grumbled.

The woman laughed in amusement, “So, how do you two know each other?”

“We work together,” the Engineer answered. He did not even bother considering if the Spy wanted her to know this information.

She laughed again, “So, I was right! You _are_ an actor!” She beamed at Hugh with delight at being correct.

He rolled his eyes at the teasing tone. He looked up to see the bus approaching them. He gestured to it with a jerk of his head. They all scuttled to the sidewalk’s edge to meet it.

“You boys taking a trip to the hardware store together?” the woman asked.

Hugh looked to the Engineer curiously. That explained why the man was taking the bus, but did not regularly take the bus. He probably took it to the hardware store, but he did not require tools every day. That would sum up why the Engineer was taking the bus today, without having shown up any other day to take this bus.

“Nah,” the Engineer started into the bus first, dropping some coins into the slot for the fare, “We don’t do anything together. We didn’t come here together. We ain’t traveling nowhere together.”

The woman looked to Hugh who shrugged. He could not argue with that. Neither of them had intended to come the same way.

“I could not have put it better myself,” Hugh offered in support of the Engineer.

There was silence for a while. The Engineer eventually picked up another line of conversation with _Mrs. Daily_. Apparently the two were quite familiar with each other. They talked and laughed. Generally they seemed to forget that the Spy was there at all. That was, until he finally stepped off of the bus and they waved goodbye.

So much for a social situation, he thought. He huffed a sigh and tucked his hands into his pockets. He made his way from the bus stop down the street. The smell of freshly baked breads caught his attention and drew him in. Maybe just something to nibble on would make him feel better.

He stepped into the bakery, expecting to see the same wrinkled old man. He was pleasantly surprised to see a young man. When said young man turned around, he felt rather wowed. He was gorgeous.

The man gave him a smile, “Welcome! What can I get for you?”

He paused, needing a moment to clear his head from the whirling thoughts. The man had a chiseled jawline with just the right amount of a not-quite-well-shaven shadow on it. His arms had a chiseled look, with some muscle that had clearly been worked into it. His hair was styled up into some weird spiky look, but it worked for him.

“Well, I was hoping to try some of your honey buns. I might as well grab some French bread while I’m at it,” he finally answered.

The man gestured silently for him to wait. He gathered the French bread into a bag for him. “How many honey buns?” he inquired, to which Hugh merely held up a handful of fingers. The man went about stuffing five honey buns into a separate bag, then put them and the French bread in a big paper bag together.

Hugh hesitantly stepped up to the counter. He pulled his wallet from his pocket to pay for the bread. All the while he was trying to pretend that he was not studying the curves in the man’s neck, and the hint that they might lead to an equally chiseled torso hidden beneath his red polo shirt.

“Cool accent,” the man commented.

Hugh nodded as he thumbed through the bills in his wallet. He had a keen desire to take an extra bill and put it in the front pocket of the young man’s polo. If for no other reason than to feel just how much muscle was built into the front of that man.

“Where are you from?” the man asked as Hugh handed him the amount. He opened a cash register and began counting.

“France,” Hugh replied, feeling rather silly for being so quiet.

“Cool, cool,” the young man counted out the change and put it in Hugh’s hand, “Must look nice this time of year, right?”

“I um…” he hesitated. He had not been to France in decades. It had been more than half a century.

“It’s like romance central and stuff,” the man went on.

Oh how delightful it was when a pretty thing just started talking. He started nibbling on one of the honey buns while listening to the young man mindlessly jabber. He decided that this is what it must be like for straight men when they come across a pretty girl who will talk endlessly.

Eventually he got tired and said his goodbye. He took note of when the man’s shifts were, hoping to catch him again. Maybe he could come in and see him. Just because he was beyond being able to date this man, did not mean he could not daydream about it.

He made his way towards his apartment, slowly nibbling on another honey bun. He felt quite content, a happy sensation that left warmth in his body. The honey bun helped too, with its sweet taste making the cool air feel cheery.

“About time you showed up,” an Austalian voice caught his ear, causing his head to whip around.

*********************************************************************

Glenn’s boot was tapping on the floor. Nervously, he licked his lips and clicked his boot. His mind was out of things to think about in order to come to a conclusion. The options were set before him and pros and cons of choosing to or not choosing to were already out in the air.

Nearby, Andrew was pacing the room. He was fairly sporadic in his way of thinking. Sometimes he sat on his own bed. Then he got up and paced. Then he stepped outside for about five minutes. Of course he came back into the room and paced again.

“This ain’t helping us, mate,” Glenn finally spoke up, breaking up the Soldier’s muttering.

Andrew looked at him, “What do you suggest we do?” His face was hard for Glenn to read, but he was definitely expressing strong emotions.

“Look, we saw him on the tele. What now? We jump to Mann Co’s files to find him?” Glenn asked, with a shrug.

The idea of going after the Spy was a fool’s errand that would get them all caught and killed. He doubted that the power of Miss Pauling’s manipulation of the system could save them. He definitely did not want to rely on Miss Pauling to get him out of a tight spot with the company.

“We can’t just ignore it,” Andrew said, dropping down on the edge of his bed.

Glenn turned to look at him, “We both settled that it would be too dangerous.”

“I know it would!” Andrew stopped up, falling absolutely silent. There was this silence for a long time, as if the sound of a pin dropping was necessary to hear. All it did though was make it easier to hear that lady moaning on Scout’s television.

They had closed the door between the rooms, but there was still some noise coming through the wall. Before this, they had been watching Drake pretty closely. Now, they were just trying to figure out what to do with the information about the Spy. Scout was enjoying some private time for himself, so the two of them figured they would leave him alone anyways.

“Scout can’t take care of himself,” Andrew lowered his voice, “I wish that he could, but he can’t. I have to…” He let out a sigh, his heavy shoulders dropping and his head sinking forward. “I don’t know what they would do to Scout. I don’t know what they would do to any of us. He would not be okay alone,” the Soldier insisted.

“Right,” Glenn nodded, his foot slowing to a stop, “Then we’re in agreement now.”

“I guess so,” Andrew’s tone got very low and it got Glenn’s attention.

“Are you okay with that?” he inquired, with uncertainty.

Andrew sighed, “I want to see him. I really want to see him.”

“I do too,” Glenn insisted, “He’s my friend you know.”

“You don’t understand,” Andrew spoke with a dismissive tone, “I want to see him. I want to hug him. I want to kiss him. I want to tell him I love him. I want to tell him how much I’ve missed him. I want to yell and cry about how angry I am that he didn’t come and find us, that we remained separated. I want…I want to be with him again.”

Tears filled the Soldier’s blue eyes. He stared at nothing, as if seeing through everything. The man did not even look responsive.

His lack of responsiveness made his sudden outburst surprising, “What if it was Melisa? What if you had the chance to be with Melisa again?”

That had Glenn shoot to his feet. God, he really had not thought about Melisa. She had disappeared with everything. If anything, the Spy would be the first one to actually know what happened to her. Glenn could assume the worst about his girlfriend and baby, but he could only cling to hope that a certain Spy could come through for him.

A chance to see his best friend. A chance to find his girl. A chance to find his baby. That was worth the gamble of his own life.

“I’ll go,” he suddenly said.

“What? Don’t you…wait…” Andrew scrambled to his feet awkwardly, “We just agreed that it was a bad idea!”

“It’s a terrible idea,” Glenn agreed, turning to the Soldier, “But, we both need answers. None of us know what Miss Pauling was doing when they got caught up with Gray. We need answers for that.”

Andrew started nodding slowly. He looked like he was thinking very hard on this. Though, Glenn thought it was just as likely that this was going over his head.

“And we’re not going to keep going far with nothing. If I can get in touch with Spy, then…I don’t know. Maybe he’ll take the ride and hitch with us.”

Andrew’s eyes lit up, “You think he would?”

“I…I’m not sure,” he thought about his dirty truck.

Despite being a newer model, having been bought by Melisa no more than ten or so years ago, it was dirty and beat up. Its camper area was not very welcoming either. He doubted the Spy would look at that thing and think that it was worth living in a cramped camper with three other men.

“If we go together…that could be bad,” Andrew gestured to the door where they both knew the Scout was messing around in ways they did not want to know about.

“Right,” Glenn huffed, “Well-” His thoughts were cut off by a knocking at the door.

He looked from the door to the Soldier and back again. He approached the door and checked the peephole. One could never be too careful about possible Mann Co personnel coming after them. He was just a little relieved to see the stout little Engineer standing outside, scratching his head under the ball cap.

He opened the door and stepped in the doorway. Just because the man was doing them favors did not mean he would still let it be easy for him to get to the Soldier. Glenn was still angry about Dooley’s behavior, no matter how long it had been.

“Hey there,” the Engineer dropped his hat on his head and gestured in greeting, “Just came by to-”

“Save the formalities,” the Sniper raised his hand.

“Right,” Dooley gave him a curious look, “I was just saying that I came by to see if you fellas were ready to go? Max and I are about to head down to make sure they don’t give our reserved table away.”

“You think they’d give away a reserved table in such a small town?” Glenn asked.

“You haven’t noticed all of the tourists around here, have you?” Dooley asked.

“Well…” Glenn glanced down the way, where a man was banging on a door. There were definitely more people here than he would otherwise expect. He did not really pay them much mind though, since he had spent much of the day in the room.

“Well um…I mean…if you’re not ready yet, just come by,” Dooley said, with a nervous insistence, “No rush or nothing. We just gotta keep our reservation, is all.”

“Right. I got it,” Glenn nodded.

“Dooley,” Andrew pulled on Glenn’s shoulder and pushed him aside. He stepped outside, ignoring the Sniper’s grunt in protest.

“What in Sam Hill- Soldier, are you alright?” Dooley turned to Andrew’s look of despair with concern. Glenn could at least tell when Dooley was being concerned.

“We need to stay here a bit longer,” Andrew insisted.

“Oh…alright,” Dooley hesitated, “If you want, I can just bring some Chinese back with me. I’ll bet you boys are dog tired.”

“I mean here,” Andrew pointed down, “At the motel. We need to stay here.”

“Oh…” Dooley hesitated, looking between the Sniper and the Soldier.

Glenn grew concerned and stepped around to look Andrew in the face, “We don’t need to stay here longer.”

“Correction! Scout and I need to stay here a bit longer,” the Soldier announced.

“The bloody hell?” Glenn suddenly felt a wave of panic rush at him.

“You’re going to find the Spy!” Andrew pointed at Glenn.

“I’m what?” Glenn asked in surprise.

“He’s what? Who?” Dooley looked to Glenn, and then back to Andrew.

“He has to find the Spy,” Andrew repeated, “We saw him on the television. He can’t be far from here.”

“I hate to tell you this, Sol,” the Engineer hesitated, “But Mann Co don’t have bases for miles around here. It’s all tourist traps in this area, they try to steer clear lest some nosey travelers point and bring attention to things they shouldn’t.”

“It can’t be far though,” Andrew insisted, “Glenn’s watched three hours of that!”

Glenn flinched with surprise as the Engineer turned to him at the accusation, “What? No I haven’t!”

“Come look,” Andrew grabbed the Engineer’s arm and led him into the room. He turned on the television and pointed for Dooley to watch as the camera switched between some fake mercenaries. It was at the Spy that Andrew tapped the glass. “That’s him! That’s our Spy!”

“House of Nine? That’s a drama show filmed in Hollywood,” Dooley explained.

“How do you know all of this?” Glenn demanded.

Dooley turned to face him squarely, “I was a handler. I knew things. I know things.”

“Hollywood!” the Soldier lit up with excitement.

“Hold on there boys!” the Engineer put up his hands in hopes of calming both of them down, despite only the Soldier being excited, “You can’t just all go running off to Hollywood.”

“We know where he is now,” Andrew protested.

“If you all go in there, there’s going to be drawn attention,” Dooley insisted.

“Drake ain’t got a leg to stand on his own,” Glenn added, “He’d not be able to move very fast if we were in a tight situation.”

“Right,” Dooley nodded in agreement, “He could easily get hurt. The lot of you could. Going as a group would draw attention.”

“One man going alone,” Andrew looked to Glenn and fell silent.

Glenn huffed, “You want me to go alone?”

Andrew nodded in response, “Yes.”

Glenn glanced around the room, searching for reasons and thoughts. His emotions were everywhere and he could not piece them together. How could he even think rationally about their situation if he could not get his head wrapped around whether he wanted to go to Hollywood and see Spy or not?

“Sniper?” Andrew pleaded.

“Alright alright,” Glenn gestured dismissively, “Don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Right, so where does that leave Soldier and Scout?” Dooley looked between the other two men in the room.

“We’ll stay right here,” Andrew said firmly.

“That’s why you wanna stay,” Dooley muttered in thought.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Glenn said, eyeing Dooley.

“We’ll talk about this more after dinner,” Andrew got a cheery attitude as he walked to the closed door. He gave it a few knocks. “Scout! We’re going to dinner! You ready?”

“Yea I’m…I’m just try’na…um…turn off this TV!” the Scout called. Something seemed off about how he was saying it though.

“I’ll help!” the Soldier charged in.

Glenn turned to Dooley. There was not much said between them for a short while. Both of them just seemed either content not to speak, or unsure of what to say.

Finally, Dooley broke the silence, “You don’t have to worry about them. They’ll stay right here. I’ll be around to make sure they don’t get into trouble.”

Glenn grunted in response, “I’m sure you will.”


	23. Dream in Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh falls asleep and dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some issues with the html of this chapter. Please let me know if there are any further issues.

Hugh was startled out of his wits by the Australian voice. He turned to see the tall lanky man leaning against the brick wall. He had not been there before, so he must have slinked in thinking he would act as if he had been there the entire time.

He gave the man a snide glare, “And what business do you have loitering here?”

The Sniper shrugged and pushed off of the wall, “I thought maybe we could talk.”

“With you?” he barked a laugh, “Never!”

“We don’t get much time or chance at work,” Sniper insisted, “Would do us some good to patch things up.”

“I think not,” Hugh turned to the door to the building and lifted his key.

He was stopped short as a hand slammed onto the door to stop it from opening. He looked cautiously up at the taller man. The Australian eyed him, leaning all of his weight into one arm.

“You’ve been a pain since the day I met you,” the man’s voice was a low husky growled that set off alarms in Hugh’s mind.

“And how very charming you have been from the moment I first saw you,” Hugh said, with an irritated tone and a dismissive shrug.

“So very witty,” the Sniper stated.

“Charmed,” Hugh rolled his eyes, “If you’re so irritated, why don’t you fuck off and bother somebody else.”

“I tried doing that,” the Sniper argued, “You followed me here.”

“ _I_ followed you?” Hugh reeled at that statement, “I followed _you_? No sir!”

The Sniper snickered, “The more you protested, the more it seems like you really did follow me here.”

Hugh scoffed and ducked away from the Sniper. So he could not get inside to the safety of his apartment. He would have to utilize the space out here. At least that was something he had working for him, with the wide road that sprawled between the apartment buildings on either side.

“You did, didn’t you?” the Sniper was grinning, “You sneaky little Spy!”

“I did no such thing,” Hugh growled with disdain.

“Whatever,” the Sniper tucked his hands into his pant pockets.

Hugh straightened his back, eyeing the man warily. No doubt he had some sort of idea in mind. He was going to do something to sneak around Hugh’s defenses. He would have none of that!

“What are you doing here?” Hugh growled, keeping his distance. He had a wary eye on the door, but he would not get too close on the off chance that the Sniper would use the time he needed to unlock it in order to trap him.

“Here for a guy,” the Sniper explained, “Seemed rather excited.”

He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket to look at. He looked up from the paper and squinted at the building. There was an address number by the door, which Hugh dreaded was a match.

“I don’t think it’s this one,” the Sniper commented.

“Then you can go,” Hugh cautiously moved towards the door. He kept the Sniper within his peripheral vision.

“No wait, read this,” the Sniper stepped into his space, shoving the paper into his face.

“Get away from me!” Hugh shoved the paper away from himself, hand and all.

“Just tell me if you can read it,” the Sniper pleaded, “This handwriting is sloppy!”

“Yes, I see it is,” Hugh reeled back. He was not sure if his good sight was a blessing or a curse, because he could plainly see the address of his building, but with another room number. “You’re at the wrong building.”

“I think you’re lying,” the Sniper looked at the paper again.

With the man momentarily distracted, he went for the door. He opened it hastily and slipped inside. Much to his chagrin, the taller man shoved his way inside too. Hugh stumbled from being shoved, flailing his arms to catch himself.

“I’ll just go knock on his door,” the Sniper said, heading for the elevator. He paused there, looking to the Spy. “Going up?”

“No,” Hugh stomped off.

Unfortunately, the boots began to follow him. He ducked just out of sight behind a vending machine. He pulled back his sleeve and activated the invis watch. By the time the Sniper reached the vending machine, he was invisible.

“I heard that cloak!” the Sniper called out, “You try anything tricky and you’ll get a large knife in your face!”

Hugh was not planning anything tricky. At least, he was not planning any tricks with the man in question. Rather, he just wanted to get away from him. Being invisible, the man could no longer see where he was going.

He was going to head for the stairs, but the ding of the elevator called him. The Sniper, being distracted with searching for the invisible Spy, did not notice that the elevator had arrived. Struck with delight, Hugh booked it for the elevator and clicked the button to shut the doors.

Once the doors were closed, he pressed his floor’s button and sighed with relief. He would not be stuck with that man in a small space again. That was an incident he could gladly pass up.

When he was on his floor, he headed to his apartment. Just as the door clicked behind him, he heard a pair of feet pounding their way up the stairs. He let himself grin at that, listening to the man struggle with the many steps in a hurry to find the apartment he was headed to.

Hugh dismissed this as he headed to his kitchen. There were a few honey buns he wanted to put away, and the rest would be eaten while he read a magazine he picked up today.

 

The trip to work was as boring as the day before, but he found that work that day was more unbearable. The Sniper lingered over his shoulder at every turn. The man was always nearby. He always seemed eager to be close to Hugh and get into his business.

He avoided the man at every turn. He kept his head down and moved away from him at every chance. He made sure to get the Sniper distracted, before sneaking away.

Eventually, he had to make use of his trailer. Usually, he only stopped into the trailer when he first arrived and before he left. Though, he was starting to think that he should just take the main pieces home and wear them on his ride to and from work. The only reason he had not put this idea into motion is that the costume suit had no pockets. He simply could not leave home without his cigarettes, wallet, keys and the disguise kit he pretended not to have.

The trailer was a dull and quiet place. It was boring to just sit in there waiting. Eventually, he broke his word on not smoking and lit up a cigarette to pass the time. Unfortunately he did not know when it was his turn here, but at least others already knew where he would be. He would just have to wait and hope that somebody would come and tell him that it was time to get on stage.

On the up side, this place was quiet. Nobody was here yelling or making too much noise. Everybody was elsewhere so he was all alone to his thoughts.

He also did not have to deal with complaints about smoking. In here, he was free to do as he pleased, and that meant that lounging with a smoke was acceptable. He could even kick his feet up on the couch and enjoy his lovely time.

He mentally kicked himself for not thinking of doing this before. It was so quiet and peaceful. He could just lay here and enjoy himself. It was so relaxing and there was nobody around to make him feel wary.

That was the best part. Initially, he did it to get away from the Sniper. It was nice to get away from everybody else too. He loathed the idea of going back out there to deal with more yammering.

As nice as Nathan was, he could be a bit annoying. They had talked just about every day of work since Hugh started there. It would be nice to just have some peace and quiet.

As he looked up at the ceiling, he tried to think of what he might have done on quiet days like this back at the base. He imagined the sound of birds, how they would twitter in the pines. He imagined the smell of a fresh roast pot of coffee steaming nearby.

 

 

 

 

 

_The bootsteps of a familiar Sniper drew near. He listened with an intent smile. He was in no hurry to move, let alone get off of the man’s couch._

_“Hey Spy,” the Sniper grumbled, “You’re in my spot.”_

_Hugh chuckled to himself, “Go get a new spot.”_

_“Mongrel,” the Sniper growled, before pouring himself a mug of coffee._

_A wide brimmed at fell flat against Hugh’s face. He chuckled, but wrinkled up his nose at the sour but familiar smell. It gave him something to remember, but it also had something of an unhygienic tang._

_He brushed the hat back, so that it settled onto his own head. He raised his head to look at the man by the counter. He smiled, watching him pour a second cup._

_He turned around and regarded the Spy with scrutiny. Hugh grinned at the face above him. “For me?” there was a tease in his tone._

_“Get up,” the Sniper gestured with his head._

_This time, Hugh obeyed the request. He sat up and scooted over to make room for the Sniper. He sat down beside him, placing the mugs of coffee before them. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh as he looped his arms over the back of the couch._

_“Merci,” Hugh gave him a small playful grin as he picked up the coffee to sip._

_“No problem, mate,” the Sniper grinned._

_“Please,” Hugh felt his cheeks start to burn already, “Call me-” he was cut off by a loud banging on the door. The rattle of the wall seemed to shake the trailer._

_“No worries,” the Sniper sipped his own cup._

_Hugh sighed and leaned against the man next to him. He smiled a little bit. This felt right. This felt like home. This was where he needed to be._

_He did not need any job. He did not need to act for any stupid drama with overreaching ideas. He did not need to go searching for some friends to connect with. He just needed this, the quiet solace of sitting in the quiet little camper with the Sniper._

His eyes opened to light. The flames licked his vision. His ears were pounding with memory of the sounds of beating on his door. Something loud crashed through, and the noises became real. A voice came close, roaring as it neared his body. Through the light, a face approached him, unlike any he had ever seen.

_“You alright love?” Hugh was startled with a gasp._

_He looked around, feeling like he was out of place. Something seemed a little odd, but he was not sure what it was. As soon as he realized that he was sitting in the recreational room with his team, he realized what it was. He never fell asleep in the recreation room._

_“Men! These are the facts as we know them!” the Soldier was announcing proudly, pacing the area before them, “If fighting is sure to lead to victory, then you must fight! Tsun Zu said that. And I’m pretty sure he knows a little more about fighting than you do, pal!” The Soldier pointed to the Sniper, his nose crinkled up a bit in a funny way._

_Hugh laughed, trying to remember a time when Andrew might have ever actually said that. He had not. This was not Andrew at all. With a frown, he recalled that Andrew had been removed from their base and replaced with somebody else._

_“Bugger off,” the Sniper kicked at him. Hugh could feel his upper body shift though, moving closer to the Spy._

_“You should be training!” the Soldier announced, shaking a scornful finger at the Sniper, “Not lounging around with your boyfriend!”_

_The Sniper flinched at that, “He’s not my boyfriend!”_

_“I’m not?” Hugh was abashed, ashamed and confused by this._

_“No, you’re not!” the Sniper pushed away from him and clambered to his feet._

_“I’m not?” Hugh asked again quietly._

_“Would you all stop ranting so loudly?” the Medic grumbled, rubbing his head, “I can feel the ground shaking.”_

_“That is because you cannot hold your liquor!” the Soldier yelled at him._

_“Drunk ain’t no way to be on the battlefield,” the Engineer said, shaking his head with disapproval._

_“Fuck you all!” the Medic spat at them._

_“Nobody wants to fuck you but Heavy,” the Scout teased, causing several other mercenaries to burst into laughter._

_Hugh pondered this for a minute. Since when could they jest about homosexual things with the whole team? And since when was Frederick gay? Sure, perhaps the Heavy had been gay and sweet on the Medic. He definitely did not remember the Medic ever being okay with homosexuality though. In fact, he was certain the topic made him very uncomfortable._

_“What are you doing?” the RED Spy suddenly appeared._

_“Spy!” the Soldier exclaimed, but barely seemed alarmed._

_“What do you mean?” Hugh raised his head, blinking at Antoine._

_“You should be in Toronto! What are you doing_ here _?” Antoine demanded._

_“Well...” Hugh hesitated, looking around, “I'm not sure.”_

_”Why are you in here?” the RED Spy pulled out a cigarette and lit it up._

_“What do you want from me?” Hugh asked._

_“I want you to explain what you’re doing!” Antoine exclaimed._

_“I’m…” Hugh looked around, but the room was empty of other BLU mercenaries._

_“I’ll tell what you’re doing here,” Antoine let out a long breath of smoke._

_“Okay…then tell me,” Hugh taunted, with a roll of his eyes._

_“You’re seated here trying to revel in what could have been,” Antoine explained._

_“Oh wow, what a fantastic commentary,” Hugh shook his head, “What other piece of genius do you have for me, oh wise man?”_

_“You jest,” Antoine walked over to a television set. Since when did the rec room have a television set? Generally, Mann Co was trying to keep them from knowing anything about the outside world. “Have you forgotten this?”_

_Hugh looked on as the television turned on, revealing mercenaries on stage. It was a familiar look too. He knew the stage, and the actors as well._

_“That’s…that’s my show,” Hugh said, feeling worried about where this was going._

_“Wrong. This is your hell,” Antoine corrected, in a harsh tone._

_“What are you trying to say?” Hugh felt dread hit his stomach like a stone._

_“I’m saying that you are in a trap of your own making,” Antoine explained, “And you’re _supposed_ to be helping take care of Melisa. How are you to know that she is well?” _

__“Well…I mean,” he hesitated, fumbling over his words, “I cannot possibly know all. But…is that not what I have trusted you for?”_ _

__

__

_“Of course!” Antoine nodded, “How do you know that_ I’m _not doing anything harmful?”_

_Hugh groaned, “Don’t task my mind like this. Spare me details. What do you want from me?”_

_“I suppose a bit of truth. Be honest,” Antoine pressed on, “Do you really want to be here?”_

_Hugh looked around as Antoine gestured. The base was old and worn down. It was familiar though, with many memories._

_He got to his feet and started walking around. He knew this place like the back of his hand, hidden beneath his glove. He remembered so many fights that were had. He remembered arguments amongst his comrades. What was more were the times when the intrigued Sniper would come in and make a bet on who would win._

_Hugh was not so foolish. He would never spit a gamble on anything like that. In fact, he had started to worry for a time that the Sniper might be a gambler. It seemed to be just for the fun of it, as he and the Demoman exchanged a few dollars at a time over somebody’s arguments._

_He sighed as he stepped into the kitchen, where many arguments had happened, “Beautiful times.”_

_“I’m sure they were,” Antoine followed him._

_“I miss those memories,” Hugh admitted, “I really do.”_

_“What else do you miss?” Antoine asked, as if pressing for something specific._

_Hugh was not sure what he was pressing for, but he decided to keep it in mind. He was not sure he could fully trust Antoine all the time. He could always use something as blackmail against him at any turn. They were both highly trained operatives, after all._

_“Is this really where you want to be?” Antoine pressed._

_“Maybe?” Hugh shrugged, “Yes?”_

_“Even…” Antoine paused to look out a window, “Even if it meant giving up everything?”_

_“Perhaps I would,” Hugh shrugged again, “What of it?”_

_“How selfish of you,” Antoine commented, snidely._

_“What? I am not allowed to have wishes and dreams?” Hugh scoffed with disdain._

_“Not a Spy, no,” Antoine shook his head. He threw the cigarette on the floor and crushed it beneath the toe of his shoe._

_“I don’t want to be a Spy anymore,” Hugh insisted._

_“Oh really?” Antoine sounded only mildly surprised. In fact, he almost seemed to expect this outcome, “What do you really want then? What would satisfy you?”_

_Hugh stepped out of the kitchen, walking through the base to the front entrance. He stepped out into the sunlight. It was a crisp day, making his jacket necessary. Water still clung to the trees and moistened the dirt to a dark muck. It was dirty, and he remembered taking it all for granted. He hated the disgusting mud. He loathed having the trees around to drop water on him randomly. Yet here he was, missing all of this._

_“I want to be…I want to be home,” Hugh sighed, “I want something more. I don’t want to be in a war. I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m serious this time.”_

_He pulled a pistol from his inner jacket pocket. He looked at it, studying the familiar curves and how they gleamed in the light. This pistol had served him well for decades. He bought it from Mann Co after his old pistol had worn down. Now it just sat around, waiting for him to use it._

_“I didn’t even bring it with me,” he commented, handing the pistol to Antoine._

_“No,” Antoine checked the gun’s safety, before tucking it away, “In accordance to travel laws, you left it behind with me.”_

_There was a long silence between them. Hugh wondered if Antoine meant that he should have taken it. Maybe he could have found a way to sneak it into California. Surely, as Spies, they could have figured out how to fool the airport systems. Then again, he could have just opted to drive like they had driven when they were relocated to Toronto._

_“It’s questionable why they even sent me on a normal plane,” Hugh commented, trying to sound thoughtful, “But then it doesn’t matter. Not if I give up.”_

_“You’re literally living some normal life in California,” Antoine interjected, “And now you’re complaining about it.”_

_“Am not,” Hugh argued, “When did I ever complain once?”_

__There was a pause. Antoine was not saying anything. It was like he had forgotten to speak._ _

__

__

_He turned to the RED Spy with curiosity, “Antoine?”_

_The RED grabbed the front of his jacket. A frantic look passed his face. Everything in his expression changed from casual and even demeaning to panicking and frightened. He looked like he was going to shake Hugh until his brains were wrecked._

_“Hugh! Hugh you have to get out of there?” Antoin spoke with shaky panic._

_Hugh brushed away his hands, “Okay. What is this? Is this some sort of joke now? Are you pulling pranks now?”_

_“This is no prank!” Antoine insisted fervently. His eyes were wide with fear, and his voice was nothing like a trained Spy’s tone. He was the epitome of terror._

_“Okay, slow down,” Hugh brushed down his jacket lapels._

_“You’re not listening to me!” Antoine insisted, “Get out of there!”_

_“Get out of where?” Hugh furrowed his brow as he studied the other Spy’s face. The poor wretch suddenly looked like he had lost a lot of sleep. “Have you slept much lately?”_

_“Not as of late,” Antoine admitted._

_“Antoine,” he reached out and gently patted the other Spy’s shoulder, “My old friend, please take better care of yourself. Go get yourself some help. Take a walk and refresh your mind. Get some better sleep.”_

_“How can I sleep?” Antoine asked, hands held out as if in despair._

_“Easy, you just do,” Hugh insisted, “It is very easy.”_

_“It is not so easy when ghosts lurk around your mind!” Antoine exclaimed._

_“Okay, okay. Take it easy,” Hugh insisted, “Calm down and I’ll try to help you.”_

_“Don’t you ever worry?” Antoine suddenly asked._

_Hugh hesitated at this question, “Worry about what exactly?”_

_“Your Soldier,” Antoine clarified._

_“My Soldier?” he hesitated, taking in the thought with the memories of Andrew Swanson. He thought fondly of the silly and obnoxious yet shy man he knew so well. “I worry about him from time to time,” he admitted._

_“How can you sleep?” Antoine pleaded for empathy, “My boy. I don’t even know what happened to him. Is he gone? Is he dead?”_

_“I…” Hugh hesitated as he thought back._

_He remembered them deciding that Drake DeLiro had likely survived the incident with the giant scoutbots. Granted, the youth was definitely still injured. How he fared was not the end of the questioning though, as the more he thought about it, the more Hugh worried that they were wrong. Maybe Scout was truly dead forever. He could not bring himself to tell Antoine that, as that would only bring him grief._

_“Everything is going to be fine,” he insisted._

_“It is?” Antoine asked, with teary-eyed uncertainty._

_“It is,” Hugh nodded to assure his friend._

_“I wish you would wake up,” Antoine’s tone and voice suddenly changed so drastically. He did not even sound French anymore. “I wish you would open your eyes and see how sorry I am.”_

_“What?” Hugh’s voice only came out in a murmur._

 

 

 

 

 

Hugh opened his eyes and stared at a blank white ceiling. The world was strange and for a little while it felt like it was spinning. This felt all wrong and he closed his eyes against it. The world was not right here. He did not belong beneath the bright light with the loud beeping noises.

“Oh my gosh! He’s coming around!” a woman’s voice gasped with delight.

“I think he’ll be okay,” Nathan’s voice was worried but comforting. The man was a familiar piece, and expressed his care through his tone.

“God, I can’t believe it,” the woman went on.

“Jennifer, just shut up,” another woman silenced her.

“Thinking we shoulda just kept him at the set,” the Engineer’s voice was so easy to pick out, a Texan among Californians.

“Oh yea, like we need some crackpot quack operating on him!” the second woman snapped.

“That’s below the belt for shots,” the Engineer spoke defensively.

“Little Engineer is right,” the Heavy’s voice rolled over him like a big vibrating bear, “Doctor is good at work. He could have taken care of this.”

“Well, and I don’t think Spy’s going to take to well to being dragged to a hospital,” the Engineer went on.

“Oh sure, say nothing of my expertise,” the Medic spoke up defensively.

“What the hell are

_you_

thinking?” the first woman scoffed, “You don’t just keep somebody somewhere when they are injured. You get them to the ER.”

“An ER is just another place with doctors,” the Engineer pointed out, “And we already got one.”

There were a few moments of silence. The silence was filled with just the rustle of clothing and slight movements. It was awkward and went on for too long.

“How long?” Hugh turned his head to look at the Engineer. His vision was blurry, but he could easily make out the stocky man.

“Huh?” the Engineer gave him a look of confusion.

“How long have I been out?” the Spy clarified.

“Oh! Uh…not sure…maybe…seven hours?” the Engineer shrugged.

“More like five,” the Medic interrupted, “You were asleep before this, and you would have become completely unconscious during. By estimation, you have been unconscious for a total of five hours.”

“Thank you,” Hugh looked back up at the ceiling.

It was so blindingly white that he wanted to look away. He wanted to look at anything else. Anything else in the world would be better than staring at that ceiling. He sat up to do just that. His body protested at first, but the familiarity of being out of bed and getting away from the soreness of laying down too much made him want to keep going.

“Hold on there!” the Engineer put a hand on his arm.

“Take it easy, you have only just began recovery,” the Medic insisted, stepping in closer.


	24. Adults Doing Adult Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine makes a choice on what he wants to do.

The red car rumbled to a halt at the end of the drive. There was a small truck parked up close to the house, but he ought to leave it plenty of room. He looked down at the wheel between his hands, with its sleek and new design. He was not really thinking about it though, pushing any reality of the car’s complexion, staring blankly at the object, without actually seeing anything.

“Why should I listen to that old idiot?” Antoine thought aloud.

Both hands squeezed the wheel. His eyes tried to focus on the small word printed white over the horn button. He was not reading it though. He just stared at it quite blankly.

“He isn’t here,” he told himself, “He is not involved anymore.”

He smacked his palm against the wheel, finally looking at it. He glared at the picture of the horn on the wheel. He was not angry at the vehicle, but it was right in front of him to take the assault.

“He’s not here to tell us what to do! Who is he to tell anybody what to do? Huh?” he asked the essence of nobody in the vehicle.

He squeezed the car wheel again. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He let his thoughts go blank for the first time since he had gotten into the car. He felt like he had been thinking about this so hard that he was exhausting himself.

“Melisa is a grown adult,” he said aloud, “I’m an adult as well. Adults do…what adults do.”

He pulled the key from the ignition and opened the door. As he rose from his seat, he took a look around. The small ranch house stood small amidst the variously fenced off yards that separated goats from sheep from rabbit pens.

Here he was. This was what he was doing? He had to shake the nerves as he closed the car door. Up there in that house was the woman he was here to visit.

He swallowed a hard lump that felt like it was stuck in his throat. He took a deep breath as he tried to pull himself together. He needed to put appearances back on for the sake of the woman he was meeting with.

If he read anything from the other night properly, then this could turn out interesting. He had to play it cool though. There was always a chance that that was a limited time offer. No doubt the alcohol had had quite a bit of influence in that.

He picked up the bags he brought along with him. They were his excuses for being here. He did not need to show up on her doorstep looking like a complete and utter fool.

He took a careful breath before raising his hand to knock. His knuckles were still in the air when the door opened. He did not get a chance to make a sound, before the barrel of a gun came out of the crevice. He felt quite startled at the affront.

“State your business!” Melisa demanded from the other side.

“It’s me,” he raised his hands, “I um…I brought wine…to…replace what I drank before.”

“Oh,” Melisa slowly lowered her gun and opened the door a bit more, “I um…I thought you were a Spy.”

He chuckled at that, “But I am a Spy.”

“No, I mean a different Spy,” she spoke hesitantly. Her face was blossoming with the color of red.

“Nope, it’s me,” he chuckled, “I’m here to replace the wine.

She pounded her palm into her forehead, “Stupid! Stupid!”

“It’s um…it’s quite alright,” he insisted, “I’m glad to see that you’re at least being cautious.”

“Can we um…” she lowered the gun, setting it aside. Her cheeks were a rosey flush at this point.

“We can just forget this happened,” he suggested, “Pretend like I just knocked on the door.”

She nodded slowly, “Oh! Hello Spy! I see you brought wine.”

“You see I have,” he raised the wine for emphasis.

The two of them chuckled as the door opened wider to admit him into the first room. He smiled at her as she closed the door, then followed her lead to the kitchen.

She went to the cabinets to pull out glasses. She was smiling to herself as she placed the glasses out onto the counter. She held the most mischievous smile as she turned to him.

He gave her the same small smile as he opened a bottle of wine and poured out a little wine into each glass. He watched as she took the first glass, taking the other glass for himself.

“To two…responsible…adults,” she raised her glass.

He hesitated. The thoughts of Hugh’s words came back to him. Maybe it was irresponsible to get into this. Encouraging a single mother of a small child to drink? He was probably a hypocrite for even considering it.

He took a breath as he pushed aside those thoughts. Melisa was an adult, after all. There was no reason that she could not have a drink, once in a while. While she was at it, there was no reason she could not have a little fun from time to time.

He smiled and raised his glass, clinking it against her glass. No reason to not enjoy this while it lasted. He was not the one who had suggested drinking. She was the one who had gotten the glasses out as a symbol that they were going to drink.

“To two responsible adults,” he grinned as they each took a sip of their respective drinks.

When she lowered her drink, her smile widened, “So, what is new in your life?”

He shrugged, pausing for effect, “Oh…nothing really. The usual…paperwork.”

“Sounds very boring,” she commented, “Don’t you usually work at one of the bases?”

“Not anymore, no,” he said, looking down into his drink, “A uh…part of my new contract.”

“Huh…well, where _do_ you work now?” she asked curiously.

“Toronto locale is largely a pen and paper area,” he explained, “Not as thrilling as the work in a warzone, but honestly much more…relieving.”

“Oh,” the tone she had was slightly chipper, which gave him a little hope, “That’s good.”

He hesitated, “Yea?”

“If it’s relieving for you, then that’s good,” she offered, carefully gesturing with her wine glass, “Never thought any mercenary would make it as a pencil pusher though.” She chuckled awkwardly, before drowning the sound with a sip of her wine.

“Well,” he sighed heavily, “When you do this…as long as I have, there comes a time when you just want to sit back for a minute. As boring as it is, filling out paperwork fulfills my need for a job, without the stress of…war.”

“Oh, I guess that is true too,” she nodded, “I did not think about that.”

He nodded slowly. He took a sip of his wine, tasting the sweet aromatic grape juice made to make them dizzy. This conversation was not moving in a good way. He definitely remembered this being easier when he was younger. Then again, he was a cocky young man, fresh out of Spy training and ready to go to war, when he wooed Roxanne.

“Glenn mentioned being overworked and overstressed,” she went on, “Despite it all, he could never let go of being an assassin.”

“Well,” Antoine sighed, feeling a little lost in this woman’s company, “I suppose some men are dissolved and devoured by the job.” He took a deeper drink of his wine, wanting to get a little dizzier than he was now. “Others salvage a little piece of themselves later.”

“I can only imagine you had to,” her words called his attention back to her.

“How do you mean?” he inquired.

“Well,” she stepped a little closer, “You had your kid, right? You had to keep a little piece of yourself alive, didn’t you? War is war, but in the end…you come back as a piece of war or a piece of family.”

He hesitated and smiled at his drink. He remembered planning to get out of his line of work as a young man. He remembered how he got tied to Roxanne by that baby. What was more, he remembered how happy it made her when he proposed to her, saying he would provide for her and look after her. That feeling had stuck with him through the war, the real war. That was what he had remembered up until he finally returned home to meet his son.

“Part war,” he stated, “Part family.”

Melisa huffed, “He was too many years gone, I think.”

“Hmm?” now she was off on some other topic that he did not know.

“Glenn wanted the baby too…but he was never all there. Not like…well not like a family man,” she explained.

“You have to understand how it is for mercenaries to be away from those notions,” Antoine insisted.

“Sure…but…in the end, he left us for the fight,” she sighed.

“He didn’t _leave you_ leave you,” he insisted, though he did not know why he did.

“I used to tell myself that,” she shrugged, “Always thought he would have turned around and come back. Maybe he would have come for us. He didn’t. Spy did.”

Antoine remained silent. This seemed a little off beat from the way they were talking before. He watched as she threw back half of the glass and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. She set the glass on the counter, then leaned against the wall.

“I was a stupid girl with stupid dreams of changing the Sniper,” she said, shaking her head, “What a stupid notion. I thought he loved me. He loved the thrill more. Even Spy came for me.”

“I’m sure if he knew where you were now, he would come for you,” Antoine insisted.

“I…” her eyes met his. They bounced between his eyes. There was something uncertain in those eyes. He could have sworn it was a child-like innocence or heartbreak.

“As Spies…we have hidden you and your daughter well,” he went on.

“I’m not sure I _want_ him to find me,” she explained. She gave him this small helpless shrug.

He studied her face for a while. He was not sure just how serious she was about that statement. She had been head over heels for the Sniper for a long itme.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken me so damn long to write. I have been busy for the holidays. I am not in my usual setup. I hope you enjoyed it.


	25. Escape the Emergency Room

The small group finally convinced him to lay in bed. Not that he wanted to do so. Nor did he intend to keep his promise after they were gone.

The Medic and Engineer informed him of the fire, which had destroyed his trailer. It had almost killed him inside. According to Jennifer, the doctors wanted to keep an eye on him, to make sure that he did not take any severe damage from breathing so much smoke.

“Give him a few days, and he’ll be fine,” the Engineer patted the Spy’s leg through the blankets.

“Oh!” the Medic seemed to have another thought, “Just thought we should let you know who saved you from the fire.”

“Oh how lovely,” Hugh rolled his eyes, “Who was it? No wait. Don’t tell me. It was the Pyro right? It was the Pyro? Who plays the Pyro again?”

“That’s me,” the second woman raised her hand.

“No it wasn’t her,” the Medic protested, a touch frustrated at the assumption, “It was the Sniper.”

“The what?!” Hugh shot up in his bed.

“Ah hell,” the Engineer grumbled, throwing down his bag.

“Whatever, see you all on set,” Jennifer huffed as she walked out. The other woman followed her, no longer interested in Hugh’s wellbeing.

“The hell did you have to tell him that for?” the Engineer frowned at the Medic.

“He ought to know,” the Medic shrugged, “Besides, Sniper is waiting in the lobby for his turn. Apparently wants to come alone.”

“We’re supposed to pop in and pop out,” the Engineer shook his head and waved his arms.

“I don’t think visitor hours last much longer here,” Nathan added, “We’ve been kind of pushing it with five people in here.”

“Six,” the Heavy interrupted.

“Right,” Nathan flinched in surprise, “Six.”

“And that is why the Sniper has been waiting his turn,” the Medic explained.

“Oh no,” Hugh muttered unwittingly.

“We should get going and let him know it is his turn,” the Medic suggested to the Engineer.

“Alrighty then,” the Engineer sighed and shook his head, “He ain’t gonna like it.”

“I don’t like it!” Hugh exclaimed, “Don’t send him in!”

“See? Told ya, Engie,” Nathan gestured to Hugh.

“I don’t care what you said! I don’t care who did what! Do _not_ send him in here!” Hugh roared.

The Medic rolled his shoulders, “Either way, we’re leaving.”

“See ya, Spy,” Nathan waved, before he left.

“Do _not_ let the Sniper in here,” Hugh insisted.

“Fine fine, we won’t send him,” the Medic gestured dismissively.

 

 

Hugh did not wait long, after they had gone. He scrambled from the bed and pulled everything from his body. He did not need it. He needed out of here. The first thing he grabbed were his pants. Why was he even out of his pants?

He rushed to get them on, then rushed to pull the shirt over his arms. He slung his jacket over his arm and rushed from the area. He was buttoning up his shirt when he heard some nurses call out to him.

Not wanting to spare them the chance to catch him, he broke into a run. In the corner of his vision, he noted a security guard calling for backup. He was going to be stuck running, wasn’t he?

He did not stop, pushing right out the front door. He could hear the security guard running behind him. He dared not look back, cursing his lungs for being so weak. He just had to keep running. If he could out run him, or trick him into running past him, then he could escape.

The night air was cool and called for a jacket. Unfortunately, his was flapping over his arm. Trying to get it on would remove much of the speed he needed to escape. So, without regret, he shivered against the cold and kept running.

He rounded a corner and looked up to see a huge car garage. It was eight stories high and full of vehicles. It would be dark, with its poor lights, and there would be plenty of vehicles to hide behind. All he had to do was get out of this man’s sight and he could escape by using the cars to hide.

He ducked his head and ran harder, rushing into the garage. He darted past an SUV, barely missing it by the elbow. He was glad to have missed it, as that would have sent him back into the emergency room.

The ding of a familiar contraption caught his ear. He ran towards it, delighted at the thought. He leaped past the small family waiting to get on, rushing to the back and slamming his fist into the close doors button. The family pulled their small child away, startled as the doors shut before them.

The security guard stumbled to a stop, just before the iron gates closed. He paused, looking up. He was probably checking what number of the floor Hugh was going to. Well, he decided to go all the way to number eight. He pressed the number and waited as the elevator leaped into action. The security guard started running, rushing up the stairs to catch him.

Ah, how foolish people could be. Hugh left enough time to be safe by stopping it at the third floor. He got off there and let the elevator go. It was headed up to the eighth floor, and so were the footsteps pounding up the stairs nearby.

He was grinning to himself as he made his way down the stairs. What a relief it was to be free. Now all he had to do was make his way back to where he belonged. He could probably find his way back to his apartment, assuming they were not about to chase him all the way there too.

He strolled down to the first floor, his lungs huffing for air. He began humming, pleased at the outcome of this event. He took his jacket and flung it over his shoulder. After all of that running, he was much too warm to put it on.

“There he is!” a woman cried out.

He turned his head to see two nurses and two security guards out by a copse of bushes. They had spotted him and were pointing in his direction. He had lost the initial security guard, but he still had more to run from.

His legs were already hating him as he took off running. He was not young enough for this, let alone fit enough. He was no Scout who could take up the mantle of a runner.

He did not look back. He dared not give up the distance he had already run. He just had to keep going, and he had to go faster.

Suddenly, a big camper truck screeched to a halt in front of him. The door flung open. He could not see the driver properly, but he heard the words, “Get in!”

Without hesitation or question, he leaped for the passenger seat. He clung to the door with one hand, as he scrambled inside. He slammed the door shut and let out a breath he had not been aware he had been holding.

Finally, he was away from those security guards. He was free of the hospital. He no longer had to worry about running and he could just relax and let his lungs take in the breath.

He hurriedly started putting his jacket on. It was growing cold in the cab of this truck already. He had no interest in getting sick, though he was wary that he might get sick by the morning anyways.

“Thank you,” he said, as he adjusted either side of his suit jacket to fit properly.

“No problem, mate,” the Australian accent caught him off guard.

Hugh looked straight ahead at the road. He dared not look directly at him. He glanced at him though, moving his head to get more of his face into the peripheral of his vision.

“Oh no,” escaped his throat before he could stop it.

“Didn’t want to see me,” the Sniper commented loudly as he drove, “Sure gave the security guards a run for their money though. That was funny.”

Hugh was quiet, trying hard to think carefully through his predicament. He was in the man’s truck. Worse, he was trapped in the man’s moving truck with him. He had no idea where this would lead to, but he hoped there would be a stop soon.

“Worth it, saving your scrawny butt twice,” the Sniper commented with a chuckle.

Hugh remained silent, trying to keep the panic from swelling up. Everything in him wanted to leap out of the truck. The vehicle was moving though, which made such an idea very dangerous.

“You didn’t realize it was me, did you?” the Sniper’s question was a rhetorical one.

Hugh slowly shook his head, assuming that the Sniper did not need the answer, just confirmation.

“Well, isn’t that just peachy,” the Sniper grumbled, “Did any of them bother to tell you who saved your skin in that fire?”

Hugh was silent. His eyes darted around the dashboard, looking for his answer. He was not sure what to do to keep the man absolutely happy, without him thinking Hugh was allowing him to get closer. He settled on nodding silently again, since the other had indeed told him who had apparently saved him.

The Sniper rubbed his face, “You know, Medic and I worked real hard to make that fire look like an accident. Real good man, I think. Figured you were friends with the Nathan boy. I didn’t figure we’d have to hide it from him.”

Hugh was silent, listening to the man’s words. He was paying attention to what he was saying, but he was also paying mind to the vehicle and where it was going. It was moving along a freeway now, heading towards a ramp that he recognized from taking the bus. It looked like the Sniper was taking him to his neighborhood.

“You don’t have to…off yourself,” the Sniper told him.

Hugh turned to look at him. Was the man crazy? Or was he even serious? Was he trying to make it some reverse psychology suggestion?

Then it hit him that the Sniper had said they were covering it up to make it look like an accident. The Sniper and the Medic worked to hide it from the others, including Nathan. But why? It had been an accident all along.

“I get it…you don’t like me,” the Sniper admitted to understanding this small bit of information, “You don’t want me around. You hate my guts for some reason. You won’t let me have a chance. You won’t let me near enough to get to know you. You can stay as distant as you want, just don’t kill yourself.”

Hugh frowned at him. He was not suicidal, so this little chat was completely irrelevant. He wondered if this could work in his favor though.

“I never meant…I never wanted…to…” the Sniper sighed in frustration, pushing his hair back with one hand, “Just…don’t off yourself. Okay? Mate?” The Sniper looked to him, seeking a response.

Hugh trained his appearance, taking away any emotional response that would have biased the answer. His response was a slow nod, looking at the Sniper from the corner of his eyes. He studied the other man, unsure of why his heart kept pounding in its cage.

“I just want you to know that I care about you,” the Sniper went on when he was satisfied with the nodding, “I care about what happens to you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hugh listened with a numb sensation. Was this really happening? Was this man really saying those things? That seemed impossible, since the Sniper was a monster. He should be taking advantage of this situation.

The Sniper put both hands on the wheel, driving carefully now. He seemed a bit more focused, yet disengaged from what he was doing. He looked like he was just operating from muscle memory, which was less safe.

“I’ve got…very few reasons too. You know?” the Sniper commented.

“What?” was all Hugh could manage before the man would ramble on.

“You’re not alone, Spy. I get it that you’re a Spy. You want to be alone. You really shouldn’t be though. You shouldn’t isolate yourself like you do,” the Sniper explained.

Hugh studied the street signs. The Sniper was taking the long way around. Either it was because he did not know about the shorter way, or because he wanted more time to talk to Hugh before the Spy could hop out of his truck. No doubt the man was going to try and see how long he could get away with keeping the Spy in his vehicle.

“It’s not like you’re the first mercenary to experience things like this,” the Sniper went on, barely missing a beat.

Hugh did his best not to show agitation or worry. He dared not tip the Sniper off that he was wary of him. The man might change up what he was doing. If Hugh could get him to stop at some point, somewhere near his apartment building, he could escape. That was the safest route at this point. Worst case scenario, he would be forced to bolt from much farther away.

“Other mercenaries have lost their loved ones too,” the Sniper really was not paying attention to anything but this conversation, “Their ages are beyond…what any normal human being should live. It’s like we should die. But we should not. You should not. You should live and cherish the time that you have.”

Hugh kept his eyes open for a chance. He needed some form of invitation. Rather, he needed the moment to come for him to run for his safety.

The truck approached a stop sign. He had to come to a complete stop. But the man was likely still on alert. If Hugh bolted now it would be too early. Not to mention the lack of cover here to try and hide in. He needed some place where he could at least turn on the invis watch without the Sniper knowing which way he would run. He needed the man to be confused, and not to possibly drive recklessly right into him by chance.

He stayed in his seat and waited. The Sniper looked both ways before driving on. His hands just moved of their own will, unabashed by how much he needed to think about the act of driving.

The Sniper let out a heavy sigh, “It’s not like I expect anything to change. I just don’t want to see you kill yourself.”

“Then you won’t see it,” Hugh quipped.

“Enough with the snark, Spy,” the Sniper retorted, as if there had been more than that one statement, “I am being very serious here.”

“No snark,” Hugh commented, turning his eyes to the road, “Understood.”

“Come on, mate!” the Sniper sighed.

Hugh glanced at him, but was surprised that the vehicle came to a stop. Hugh’s head swiveled as he looked around, trying to catch his bearings. This was his street. His apartment was here, but they came from the other direction.

“I’ll sit here until I know you went upstairs,” the Sniper told him, “Show yourself in the window and I’ll leave. You’d better see the driver tomorrow morning. You better start checking in with people.”

Hugh wanted so badly to say no to this. He wanted to retort with snark that would shut the Sniper down. Being this close within the man’s reach and also so close to freedom, he dared not piss the man off.

“I’ll be checking in on you when I can,” the Sniper said, “I’ll…I don’t know. I’ll just keep an eye on you. No more alone time in trailers though.”

So many witty responses came to his tongue. All of them were bitten back. His hand was on the handle of the door, waiting to be dismissed without pissing off the man in the driver’s seat.

“If I have to? I’ll call your apartment,” the Sniper insisted.

That was the last straw, and Hugh opened the door. He was relieved when he slid out and the Sniper did not react. Thank whatever miracle that had kept the insane man calm.

“I’m serious, mate,” the Sniper pressed, with a firm tone.

“Don’t ever call my home,” Hugh spoke with a stern bite in his words, “And don’t ever call me _mate_. We are not friends.”

He threw the door shut and quickly darted towards the door. He dared not look back, quickly unlocking the front door and rushing inside. He rushed to the elevator and waited to be lifted to his floor.

He had no idea what the Sniper did after he left. All he knew was that the man did not come try to catch him. He did not even come to the front door.

When he reached his apartment, he went to his window to check. True to his word, the Sniper started up his camper truck. The vehicle drove away, presumably off to take the shortcut to wherever else.

Hugh sighed with relief and went about his evening routine. Unfortunately, he had yet to visit the bakery, but there were a couple of those goodies left from the day before. He happily ate those and turned in early for the night.

He was strangely tired. Granted, that could be chocked up to the day of running around like a madman. He certainly had his lungs worn out from running away from those security guards.

Perhaps almost dying in a fire had taken a toll on him too. He was not sure what part was worse though, the fact that he had fallen asleep with a lit cigarette in his mouth, or that they thought it was a suicide attempt. No doubt they were going to coddle him over this. The Sniper would, and whoever else knew of his theory of what went down in that trailer.

Who knew if he even had a trailer. If the damage was so bad that he was taken to the emergency room, there was a chance that there was no trailer left. There could just be rubble where it once stood.

Either way, that was a worry to settle with in the morning. He had hoped to get some solace in that small space, but this would have to do. He was doubtful that the crew would have a red suit ready for him by tomorrow, so it was likely that he would have an easy day at work. That would suit him just fine, and give him enough thinking space to deal with the Sniper and whatever he had planned.


	26. Sleeping on Strange Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh has a weird dream.

_Hugh woke with a start, feeling drowsy and disoriented. He looked around, unsure of where he was. He could not help but yawn though. The instinctive nature of yawning reminded him of how tired he was and how badly he wanted to sleep._

_Sleep or no sleep, he needed to be sure of his surroundings. Everything felt different, after all. When he moved his head, he realized that he was not laying in a bed but in a chair with his head against a window. The window pane was cold and uncomfortable too._

_He needed to breathe through his mouth for a bit. His nose felt stuffy and he could barely breathe through it. The congestion felt like it could probably be from all of the sinus pressure he was feeling._

_“Feeling alright?” he heard a familiar Australian accent nearby._

_Hugh hesitated to speak, slowly letting his eyes fall open. The rumble of the truck around him felt familiar and strangely comforting. It had to be something there that he was missing to make him feel so happy about falling asleep in the passenger seat of a camper truck._

_“Take some cold medicine,” the man offered a bottle of pills._

_Hugh accepted the pills without question. He was not sure he could afford room to question what was going on. He just wanted to be rid of that feeling of pressure on his head. When he took the pills though, it was as if the weight was lifted off of his head and his neck had room to move._

_“Feel better yet?” the other man asked._

_“Better,” Hugh hummed._

_Finally, he looked over at Xavier with a smile. Xavier smiled back. The man split his attention between his passenger and the road ahead._

_“How long have we been driving?” Hugh asked._

_“A few hours, I suppose,” the Sniper shrugged his big shoulders._

_“Ah,” Hugh hesitated, thinking about how long they must have been traveling. His stomach began to rumble as he wondered on when they had last eaten._

_“We could stop and get a bite to eat,” Xavier suggested._

_“Yes,” the Spy nodded in agreement, “That sounds like a reasonable idea.”_

_The Sniper smiled, pleased at the agreement. He was in a rather chipper mood today. He seemed to have wiped away any inclination towards being frustrated or mad with Hugh._

_“You have a picky appetite, Spook?” the Sniper teased, scratching the bit of stubble on his chin._

_Hugh frowned, pursing his lower lip out a little big, “Non. I do not have as picky a diet as you might think. I am not like all the others Spies you’ve dated.”_

_The Sniper let out a hearty laugh. He was smiling, so pleased to be talking. He kept his eyes on the road all the while, not wanting some treacherous turn to take them._

_“Think you’d be willing to give some roadside In ‘n Out a try?” Xavier asked._

_Hugh crinkled his nose as he thought about the last time he had been to In ‘n Out. He did not remember much about the visit, only that he left with sickness in his stomach. He rather wished he had gotten ginger ale before that._

_“No thanks,” the Spy raised a dismissive hand, “I’m not in the mood for something to make my stomach ill.”_

_“Well, would you rather we stop in at some restaurant?” Xavier asked, still scratching at his chin._

_“Anywhere is fine,” Hugh insisted._

_“I just want to bloody know where you want to go!” the Sniper pressed._

_“Wherever you want is fine,” Hugh pressed, trying to assure the Sniper of his decision, “It’ll be fine.”_

_“You can’t go to In ‘n Out though. I was looking forward to that,” Xavier sounded disappointed about that._

_“It’s not a big deal,” Hugh rolled his eyes at the Sniper’s insistence to argue, “I simply cannot eat roadside and pitstop food.”_

_“Well, we’re on the road,” Xavier protested, “It is a bit difficult to find food out here that is not at a pitstop.”_

_Hugh sighed and looked around at the signs. There was a McDonald’s coming up. It was gross and more likely to cause his stomach pain, but it was better than eating nothing. He pointed to the golden arches that were fast approaching._

_“There,” he suggested, “Let’s go there.”_

_“Are you sure?” the Sniper asked warily._

_“Yes, I’m sure,” Hugh insisted with a bold roll of the eyes._

_The Sniper let out a sigh in a loud huff, “Alright. If you say so. You had better not complain though.”_

_They turned right, moving in the lane for the exit. Hugh relaxed back in his seat, his eyes wanting to fall shut again. Even the sensation of being hungry was apparently not enough to keep the power of sleepiness at bay. The thought was laughable though._

_“We’re almost there, mate,” the Sniper chuckled, “Just hang in there a little longer.”_

_“Help me, Sniper,” Hugh jested, playing dead in his seat, “I’m dying of hunger over here. I’m dying!”_

_“Just hang in there,” Xavier’s speed picked up, “We’ll be there shortly.”_

_“I feel so weak,” Hugh kept playing, “So desperate to die.”_

_“Hey, no! Don’t die,” Xavier insisted._

_“Why not?” Hugh gave him a taunting tone._

_“Just don’t,” Xavier’s voice was somehow heartfelt and warm this time, pleading with him to not off himself._

_“Okay, I won’t die,” Hugh said, wriggling in his seat, “But I am as tired as I am hungry.”_

_“Hmmph,” the Sniper grunted, “Think you can hold out just a little longer?”_

_Hugh huffed a sigh, “Maybe.”_

_“Come on Spy,” Xavier pleaded, “Don’t make me beg.”_

_“I like begging,” Hugh grinned mischievously, “Lesson one about me, I like when people beg me.”_

_“Well, I ain’t begging,” Xavier protested._

_“Please?” Hugh whined playfully._

_“You’re a cheeky little bastard, you know that?” Xavier asked, throwing him a wry smirk._

_“I might as well be,” Hugh replied haughtily._

_“Well, get up! We’re here,” Xavier reached over to bump Hugh’s shoulder._

_He looked around and yawned. He climbed out of the truck and onto the black top of the McDonald’s parkinglot. It looked like a very familiar place though. Everything seemed to have a sense of belonging in his mind. It was as if this was not just some other McDonald’s, but a McDonald’s that he knew about and should have taken note of._

_There was something just so uncanny about this place. He could not put his finger on it. When had he ever been to this place? Had he been lied to? Was this not a McDonald’s?_

_Curious, he walked around the building. He passed the doors, then the bathroom on the outside. He followed the building’s wall to the back area. Everything looked alright._

_He turned around to go meet up with Xavier when a small rustle caught his attention. The noise brought his attention to a dumpster. He looked behind it to find a large snake. It was moving slowly, cautiously coiling around its prey._

_A rat it had caught was struggling to escape. It was still alive and moving. The poor thing was wriggling, trying to find some way out._

_Hugh knew how the rat’s life would end. Rat or no, it would end the way anybody would like it to end. He could barely hear the crackling of the bones. It got louder though. The bones crackled and busted under the pressure of the snakes powerful muscles._

_He stared, as if awed by the snake’s power. The creature kept moving, all too ready to engorge itself on its meal. It was the coming end too._

_The rat was not finished. The creature was still wriggling. It thrashed a bit, though it was not very strong. In fact it seemed to have been slowed significantly. There was no way the poor thing was getting free of its predator._

_Hugh was not sure why he was watching. He was not particularly interested in what would happen. He knew what would happen. He knew how it would happen. He did not like the idea of it happening either._

_He looked at the rat and sighed. Everybody hated rats. When a rat die, it was good riddance. Nobody looked out for the rats._

_“I know how it feels,” he told the rat, as the snake’s head approached the slowly dying mammal._

_He pulled a hat off of his head. He did not remember when he put it on, but it was there. He placed it against his chest, as if in honor of the poor rodent’s death._

_“They say every rat gets his day,” he let out the breath he was holding as the snake went for the rat’s head._

_“_ Every _rat,” a voice caught his attention._

_He looked up to see a man holding a gun pointed at him. The man was snarling. He looked like he was going to shoot without another word. Hugh immediately put his hands up to show that he was unarmed._

_“I have done nothing! I am innocent!” Hugh proclaimed with panic._

_“Oh really? What’s that in your hand?” the man inquired, gesturing to his raised hand with the muzzle of his gun._

_He lowered his hand to look at it. He was stunned to find that he was indeed holding a gun. Why was he holding a gun?_

_“Huh,” was all he managed to say._

_“Be a smart rat,” the man growled, “Drop the gun and kick it over.”_

_Hugh gave no hesitation in dropping the weapon and kicking it over. He did not mean to have a gun in his hands, after all. He would cooperate fully._

_“I’m not sure what you want from me,” Hugh interjected finally._

_“It’s not about what I want,” the man grinned, his yellow nasty teeth gnashing greedily, “It’s about what _she_ wants.”_

__“She?” Hugh inquired, before he could think about it._ _

__“Yes of course,” the man’s tone teased him, “How could you forget? She has been watching all along.”_ _

__“And you are telling me this why?” Hugh pressed, hoping for more information that he could use._ _

__“It’s not important, rat,” the man gestured for Hugh to turn around, “You’ll be dead soon anyways! So who cares?”_ _

__“I do!” a familiar Australian accent cut in._ _

__“Glenn!” Hugh spun, hoping to see his friend._ _

__He was stunned, staring up at the taller and yet thicker man. He was stunned that Xavier was here. Was he truly going to such a length as to stalk him here? How did he even find the Spy?_ _

__“Not Glenn,” Xavier said cooly, pointing a pistol at the stranger._ _

__“I…uh…” Hugh fumbled for words._ _

__“Can’t you be bothered to remember my name?” the Sniper asked, giving Hugh a look of disappointment._ _

__“Alright! Alright! I know your name! I know your name, Xavier!” the Spy threw his hands up, hoping not to get shot._ _

__The Sniper’s gun was pointing at the stranger, but his eyes were boring into Hugh with something like sadness. Hugh was not sure why but it made him feel more frightened than if the gun was pointing at him. He was not sure why he was feeling like this though._ _

__The Spy swallowed his fear. He wished he did not feel so strongly in this situation. It was very difficult to control his emotions. When it was difficult to control emotions, it was more difficult to control one’s expressions._ _

__“I know your name,” the Spy muttered._ _

__“All I ask…” the Sniper lowered his gun, dropping the hand to his side, “Is for one chance.”_ _

__Xavier raised his hand, offering it to the Spy. There was a long silence, as they stared at each other. Hugh looked from the hand to the face. He was not sure what to do. He was not sure how to make this situation any better. What was worse was that he was not sure what he wanted to do._ _

__“Please,” the Sniper moved his hand, hoping to get the Spy’s full attention on the outreached palm._ _

__“I…” the Spy glanced around, but saw that the stranger was gone._ _

__His heart started racing wildly. Any choice he made here could make things better or worse. If he gave the man, Xavier, a little room, then he would have to deal with the man having hope. Hope was not something he wanted Xavier to have about being close to him._ _

__He glanced at the hand with the gun in it. If he made the wrong choice, Xavier could grow angry. Xavier was known to be from the craziest of places. The man was probably the quickest of killers. Not to mention the likelihood that he was the sharpest of shots, perhaps even better at his job than Glenn._ _

__Hugh took a hesitant step back. He looked between each of the Sniper’s hands. He was not sure what to do. The panic rose to his head, clouding his judgment with the pounding of his heart and the light-headedness._ _

__“Spy?” that man’s big eyes looked at him, pleading for a chance._ _

__“But I…” Hugh took another step back away from him._ _

__“Please?” Xavier glanced down at his own outstretched hand, then back at Hugh._ _

__“I don’t…I don’t know,” Hugh tried to breathe calmly and steadily. His mind was so clouded, too clouded to think about all of this thoroughly._ _

__“I just want one chance, is all,” Xavier insisted._ _

__Hugh tried to correct his expression, “I don’t think-”_ _

__“Spy?” another Australian accent caught his ear._ _

__He turned to see Glenn standing at the corner of the building. He looked between the taller man and the Spy. He seemed quite confused by the situation._ _

__“Oh Glenn!” Hugh gave his friend a smile and a small wave in greeting, “This is…we are just uh…”_ _

__“Him?” Xavier demanded his attention._ _

__“What? I uh…” Hugh felt his heart race again._ _

__“_ He _gets your attention?! And me? I don’t? I saved your life!” Xavier raised his voice.__

__Hugh shivered, “I…you…you’re a creep!”_ _

__“Oh what? Because of some rumors? Some people say things, so now I get judged for that?” Xavier raised his voice higher._ _

__“I…you…” Hugh coulc not slow down his breathing._ _

__“Yes, I suppose you look down upon me, don’t you?” Xavier furrowed his brown as he glared at the Spy._ _

__Hugh looked from Sniper to Sniper. He was not sure what to tell Glenn, or what to do about this creeper. The man had followed him here, and Hugh was sure that he had yet to tell Glenn anything about him. He was completely in the dark about all of this._ _

__He should not be too concerned about it though. He assured himself that Glenn would be on his side. His friend would understand his fear and concern. He knew that the Spy knew best, and was not like other Spies. They were best friends, after all._ _

__“Spy?” Glenn gave Hugh a questioning look._ _

__“Glenn, let’s go,” he started towards his friend, hoping to leave the other man behind._ _

__“Spy!” the other Sniper cried out._ _

__He looked over his shoulder, feeling his lungs tighten. His arms and legs tightened, muscles stiffening when he saw the raised pistol. He was almost within reach of his own Sniper, he was so close._ _

__“Just put the gun down,” he insisted, raising a hand to try and stop him._ _

__“Oh? Just put the fucking gun down?” Xavier growled, hand tightening around the grip of the gun._ _

__“Yes!” Hugh exclaimed, a little exasperated._ _

__“Put the damn gun down,” Glenn growled, pointing a semi-automatic at the other Sniper._ _

__“You put your gun down, wanker,” Xavier growled._ _

__“No look,” Glenn gestured with his gun, “You’ve got a petty pistol. I’ve got a semi-automatic.”_ _

__“I’ve got the better aim of the two of us,” Xavier replied, training his weapon on Glenn’s head._ _

__“Do you really want to take that chance?” Glenn growled._ _

__“I know it’s not a chance,” Xavier growled._ _

__“Glenn, just stand down,” Hugh interrupted, trying to deescalate the situation._ _

__Glenn pushed Hugh away from himself, “You know me! You know I’m a great shot! Stop doubting me!”_ _

__“I’m not doubting you,” Hugh protested, “But I know how dangerous_ he _is!” He tried to push his gun down by the barrel.__

__“What are you? A traitor? Is he your boyfriend?” Glenn looked at him with the most confounded expression._ _

_Hugh gasped, sitting abruptly up. He looked around. He was in his bedroom. He touched his face and found that he was without his mask. He was where he belonged, but something felt very wrong._


	27. The Surprise Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise visitor crashes the stage! Or rather...steals the stage.

Work was a drag. Hugh wanted desperately to be away from it. It was a drag to be reminded that he was stuck around the Sniper.

There was no trailer either. In fact, there were no costumes either. He even lost an entire suit in the fire. He had not even realized this until he had gotten home and changed. It was now his only costume, leaving him with sharing a trailer space with Nathan, who was enthusiastic about helping him have a private space to change in before and after work.

The trailer was a big charged mess. On the outside, it was white with black charring spreading up along one side. It burned away the majority of the studio’s logo.

“Hey Spy! You ready for the third act?” Nathan asked.

“What’s in the third act?” Hugh asked, now wishing he had looked at whatever notes had been written for today.

“Sniper and Medic setup a weird scene,” Nathan explained hesitantly, “Director wants you in on the third act. Wants you to have a personal scene with him.”

“Medic?” Hugh asked, with hope.

“No, with Sniper,” Nathan shook his head.

Hugh groaned. Of course, it was a scene with the Sniper. It would always be a scene with the Sniper. This would require some finesse and finagling.

“Do you have any information for me?” Hugh asked.

“Sniper is talking like…weird,” Nathan was hesitant as he spoke.

“Weird how?” Hugh pressed for more details.

“Creepy weird,” he shook his head, “It was like…this conversation he had with Medic right? He was going on like all…depressed and shit. And they were like…talking about you. I mean, they were talking about Spy. You know what I mean.”

“Nathan, get to the point,” Hugh pressed firmly.

“They were talking about you like…not giving him a chance or something?” Nathan shrugged, “I thought that you should know. I’d show you the clip if we had the recordings yet. It just kind of just happened though.”

Hugh froze as he thought about this. This was something bizarre, as if out of a movie. So this was the creep’s game? He was going to bring all of this front and center to the stage?

This was a dangerous game. This was a dangerous idea. Still, as a Spy, he would have to use his best tricks to utilize this fickle mercenary’s pathetic ideas against himself.

He put on a confident smile. That was how he would play this. It would take a lot of work, but he would make it function for him. He would make the Sniper dance like a puppet on harp strings.

“You’ve got this,” Nathan gave him a smile, which meant to instill some confidence in him.

Hugh gave the younger man a smirk, “Oh yes, I have. I have this by its metaphorical testicles.”

“More imagery than I needed,” Nathan shook his head. Nathan gave him a small punch on the shoulder. He nodded and smiled, “Good luck!”

“I won’t need luck,” Hugh’s fingers toyed with the hem of his jacket as he headed towards the stage door. He was itching for a cigarette. That was something he would have to wait on.

He waited, watching the nearby staff member. She turned to give him the okay, letting him step through the door. The lights flashed and he passed Jennifer on his way out. She barely gave him a glance in passing, brushing shoulders with them as they changed places.

Hugh did not hesitate, strolling easily across the stage and over to the Director. The man was already talking to the Medic and the Heavy. Nearby them was the Sniper, but he did not seem like he was involved in the conversation at all.

“So, I hear that I am to step in on the third act?” Hugh inquired as he approached.

The others raised their heads. The Heavy and Medic shared a glance, but quickly looked away from each other. Something seemed off about the tension between those two.

“Spy!” the Director gestured to him, “I’d like to see you and…Sniper shake things up a bit. Really…how shall I say…get the uh…drama flowing?”

The Director turned to the Medic, “How would you say it?”

“He speaks English,” the Medic gestured irritably to the Spy.

“Da,” the Heavy grunted, “Doesn’t need explanation.”

“Can I get just a little explanation?” Hugh had his peripheral vision trained on the Sniper, watching for any movement, “What is the outcome you expect from this one?”

“You know, I think if you let Sniper take the lead on this one, it should turn out well,” Medic insisted.

“The Sniper?” Hugh hesitated, trying to think through what that could lead to. He could not just let the Sniper have the lead.

“He has a good idea for how the scene goes,” the Medic nodded enthusiastically.

“So?” Hugh eyed the Sniper warily, “You think it is a good idea? What if I don’t?”

“I don’t care what your deal is,” the Director gestured dismissively, “Just get on with the scene!”

Hugh growled and glared at the Sniper. The man pushed off of the wall to stroll off camera. Hugh decided to take to the other side of the stage. He would not join the Sniper on his side.

“Cameras are ready!” the Director announced.

Hugh looked over at the Sniper. The man’s eyes seemed to be aglow with mischief as he looked back at him. He calmly looked away, turning his eyes away from the Sniper. He looked at the lockers, pretending to see something of interest elsewhere.

“Ready!” a soundman announced.

“Sound ready?” the Director asked.

“Check!” one of the soundmen called out, giving the Director a thumb up.

Hugh huffed and whispered, “Here we go.”

“Action!” the Director called out.

The Sniper stepped onto the stage and strolled to the center. Hugh watched him, while the Sniper looked back at him. There was a very silent hush that fell over the entire studio.

Somebody coughed in the crowd. Nearby, a soundman shifted from foot to foot impatiently. The Director’s chair creaked as he leaned forward.

“Spy!” the Sniper suddenly barked.

Hugh looked over to the Sniper. There was just a little satisfaction in having ruined the scene. The shot would have to be redone if they were doing it the Sniper’s way.

“Just start over!” the Director waved the Sniper off the stage.

Sniper huffed a sigh and stomped off the stage. There was a moment of resetting the cameras, before the Director called for the scene to start again. This time, many eyes were on the Spy, watching for him to take up the action of joining the Sniper on the stage. Even as he moved across the stage, going more than halfway, hardly anybody was looking at the Sniper.

With a sigh, Hugh dropped his arms from his chest, letting them rest at his sides. He raised his head and moved slowly onto the stage. He stepped slowly, making each movement deliberate. He was trying to weigh this whole scene and how to make it least prominent. How could he make this scene bad? He could make it worse in any way.

“Spy, there you are!” the Sniper shifted from foot to foot.

“Where else might I be?” Hugh asked coolly.

“I have something to say,” Sniper explained.

“You do now?” Hugh questioned, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Yes, I do,” the Sniper nodded. He had a pouting look to his lip, a look of anger that he was trying to shove back down.

He came to a halt two feet away from the Sniper. The two of them looked at each other. The tension was so thick that it was hard to breathe. It became even worse as the personal body stench of the man filled the air between them.

“I am-” the Sniper started but the bark of a voice cut him off.

All of them turned to look. Even the audience turned to look. The cameras hesitated, but they finally did turn once the other figure trotted up onto the edge of the stage. Their eyes moved with him, stunned at this stranger who appeared out of nowhere, with no introduction.

“Who is that?” the Sniper asked in surprise.

Hugh turned just as the voice barked again, “Spy!”

He was shocked as he stared at the smiling face of Glenn. The man strolled right across the stage towards him. He seemed completely unfazed by whatever was going on around him, his eyes trained on Hugh.

“Sniper?” Hugh managed to say.

“Spy!” Glenn’s eyes lit up excitedly.

“Wait, who is this guy?” Hugh heard somebody ask.

“Who is this guy?” the Sniper copied the line, gesturing dramatically with his whole arm towards the other Sniper.

Glenn quirked an eyebrow at them. Perhaps he did not realize what was going on here. Hugh had been paying close attention though, noticing that the Director had yet to stop the cameras from rolling. What was worse was that this Glenn had walked in with a BLU outfit.

“BLU…BLU Sniper?” Hugh hesitated, turning to look over at the other Sniper, who was fully dressed in a RED attire.

“What’s this guy doing here?” Xavier demanded.

“Spy, I came to find you, and I-” suddenly Glenn looked around and realized that there were so many people staring at him. His eyes widened and his irises swelled as he stared at the people staring at him.

“What’s a _BLU_ doing here?!” Xavier demanded.

“Well, I don’t know,” the Spy shrugged, moving away from the taller Sniper.

“I came here looking for the Spy, of course,” Glenn gestured to Hugh.

“I…I was…” Xavier hesitated, before suddenly grabbing the Spy’s hand. He pulled on him, tugging the Spy behind himself. “You’re a dead man, BLU!”

Glenn tugged a large kukri from his belt and readied for an actual fight. There was no thought of acting on his mind, he was just ready to get into a real fight. He went from terrified to defensive in less than a second. Hugh was rather impressed with Glenn’s speed in reacting to this situation.

“I think you’ve got it wrong, _RED_ ,” Glen lowered his voice to a fearsome growl.

Hugh smirked as he yanked his arm away from Xavier’s grip. He rubbed where he had been clasped. He watched the two Snipers, waiting to see Glenn tear into the taller man with his blade.

Xavier took two quick strides back as Glenn advanced. Hugh had to move out of the way, staying clear as one Sniper approached another. He very much wanted to see Xavier experience a bit of pain.

“You picked the wrong day to get out of bed,” Glenn growled low.

“Who the hell is this guy?” somebody asked quietly. Somebody immediately shushed him.

“I’m gonna put you in a wheel chair,” Xavier suddenly stepped forward.

Glenn swung his blade, but he was not fast enough. Xavier’s attempt at surprise allowed him the chance to grab Glenn’s wrist. He quickly snapped his wrist around, causing the kukri to fall out of his grip. He snapped his arm back, pulling his whole body and flinging him across the stage into a somersault.

“G-Sniper!” Hugh cried out in surprise and fear. He rushed towards his friend, hoping to find him unharmed.

Xavier had picked up the blade and was quickly walking towards the other Sniper. Glenn tried to hurry away, scrambling backwards along the floor. Hugh quickly rushed between them, throwing himself at the blade, so that it would halt. He grabbed the bigger man’s wrist and used the same technique used on the blade’s owner. The blade fell across the stage and Hugh thrust the hand away from himself.

The Sniper huffed, panting as he looked down at the Spy with hysterical disbelief. The two of them stared at each other, but it was difficult for Hugh. Staring up at those hysterical eyes, wondering what was going on within that mind. He dared not think about what it was that made his heart race at this moment.

“Spy,” the bigger man growled, taking a hold of Hugh’s wrist, “You shouldn’t associate with the likes of him.”

“That’s none of your business!” Hugh growled, trying to pull his hand away.

The taller Sniper refused to release his grip. Instead, he yanked Hugh around, pulling him behind himself. He stomped a boot onto Glenn’s pant leg, pinning him in place.

“I’m not done with you,” Xavier growled with disdain.

Hugh gasped and chose not to let any further harm come to his friend. He yanked his arm out of the bigger man’s grip first, so that he could not pull Hugh down with him. He dug an elbow into the man’s side and pushed all of his weight into him, forcing him off balance to one side. He gave a final shove before he stumbled to a halt, watching the giant of a Sniper fall.

Glenn scrambled to his feet and brushed his hands off. He grinned at Hugh, in a silly manner. It was almost child-like the way he was looking at Hugh. Perhaps that was the level of their friendship. After all, the man came all the way here to find Hugh.

“You did that on purpose!” Xavier called out.

“Well,” Glenn took Hugh’s hand. He flinched at first, ready to immediately yank away from the grip. His arm relaxed when he realized that Glenn’s hand was gentle and requesting, rather than coarse and demanding. “I’m going to do _this_ on purpose,” Glenn invited Hugh closer with a gentle tug.

Of course, this was strange. Of course, Hugh had a very inquisitive expression. Of course, he was confused by this situation.

The Sniper pulled him close, and despite everything, pressed a kiss to the Spy’s lips. Hugh blinked in surprise, before closing his eyes. He was not entirely sure what was happening anymore, given his heterosexual friend was suddenly kissing him on the lips, even if their mouths were closed.

The audience reacted immediately, in an uproar of mixed reactions. Some screamed, cheered and clapped, but others were booing and guffawing at the scene. They had never seen this man before, a new character just randomly introduced to the show. Still, a great deal of people loved how the scene went, at least enough to drown out the booing and protesting.

“That’s it! That’s a wrap!” the Director shouted, as a loud raucous chorus of cheering and clapping went up into the air. Whoops filled the air as the crowd made their feelings about this clear.

The kiss ended and they parted. Hugh stared at his friend, both questioning and concerned. Glenn was somewhat stiff. His rigid behavior suggested that this was very awkward to him.

“Get him!” somebody shouted.

Hugh turned his head to see a small group of security guards running towards the stage. Glenn moved away from him, then turned and ran. Hugh watched him go through the backstage door, and so did the audience as they burst into laughter. Somehow it was comical to see the lanky man fleeing from the security guards.

Hugh shook his head, slowly turning as he was joined by other actors. Right beside him was the tall Sniper, but he could not care. He was ultimately brimming with a sense of satisfaction.

“You have a boyfriend now?” Xavier growled under his breath, “That’s new.”

“Holy shit, that was awesome!” Nathan appeared on Hugh’s other side. Neil appeared on Nathan’s other side.

“Was that choreographed?” Neil asked.

“How did you do that? That was so cool!” Nathan praised.

“You shouldn’t have done the same move twice,” Neil criticized.

Hugh rolled his eyes, choosing not to pay attention to them. He was still too satisfied that he knocked the Sniper to the ground. He already felt that much more powerful. It already began to seem as if the Sniper was hardly as strong as he had previously thought.

The thrilling adrenaline put a big smile on his face. He looked up at the audience, beaming with joy unlike anything he had felt in a while. He had just seen his best friend and put the stalker on his ass.

And he kissed his best friend. The realization suddenly hit him and he stared out at the audience with horror. Glenn was a man in love and lust with women and women only. He was not even comfortable with gay people and gay things. How could he just kiss him like that?

This was something bizzare. It was something out of a dream. This had to be a dream. It was a dream, wasn’t it? It was just another weird dream. Only this time, he managed to overcome the creep. On the downside, this meant that he had _not_ put the Sniper on his ass.

The moment they finished bowing, he quickly escaped through the backstage door. He rushed through the backstage area, looking around fervently for Glenn. He had to be here somewhere. He was not a very fast man, so it was not like he could have run off across town.

He rushed through the backstage and out to the back. A group of security guards were struggling to tackle down a man. Hugh had no doubt that the man was Glenn, and quickly hurried over to help him out of the mess of security guards.

“Hey! He has a weapon!” one of the security guards exclaimed.

“Get off of him,” Hugh pulled a man away, “He’s with me. Just let him go. He’s here with me.”

“He entered without an identification pass,” one of the security guards announced.

“Somebody, help me with this weapon!” another guard shouted.

“What’s going on out here?” the Director shouted as he came out the door.

Hugh turned to see that almost all of the actors, a majority of crewmembers and the Director himself came out the door. Some of them had their electronics out, taking pictures and possibly recording the incident for video.

“We’ve taken down the trespasser,” one of the security guards told him, “No worries, sir.”

“No worries?” the Director gave him a look that held flames behind the eyes.

“Y-yes, sir?” the security guard became uncertain.

“You boys failed your job!” the Director raised his voice angrily.

“Sir, we’re doing all that we can to get this trespasser into custody,” the guard explained.

“You’re not doing a very good job,” Hugh mentioned off-handedly, taunting the young man.

“If you men were doing your jobs, he would have never hit the stage!” the Director’s voice was a menacing roar that caused the other security guards to freeze, “And the cameras were rolling! The scene was set! The entire audience watched this strange man run onto _my_ set! What if he had damaged something? And there was even physical harm done to one of my actors!”

“Sir, we were given orders to stay out of an active studio area,” one of the other security guards protested.

“Yes, for this reason!” the Director barked.

“Sir, please let us do our job,” the first guard insisted.

“You can do your job elsewhere!” the Director barked.

“What about the trespasser?” another guard interjected.

“Let me handle this,” the Director gestured for them to leave.

The group of security guards moved back and away. They pulled Glenn to his feet, before they began to disperse. A few of them stayed behind, waiting to make sure nothing bad happened.

“What were you thinking? Going onto a live set?” the Director demanded of Glenn, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yea Glenn, what were you thinking?” Hugh teased.

Glenn looked at him. He blinked, apparently bewildered by what was happening. He looked to the Director with confusion.

“I’m not sure what that means,” Glenn admitted.

“I’ll…overlook this little incident,” the Director said slowly, “If you’ll sign on for a temporary position on the show.”

“A temporary position? But we already have a Sniper!” Neil exclaimed.

“We don’t have a BLU,” the Director grinned, “What do you say?”

Glenn’s eyes shifted for a moment. Hugh quickly followed his gaze to see the other Sniper. The man looked a little ruffled, but otherwise unaffected. He just stood there, watching this event like it meant nothing.

“That scene you just pulled? Now that was a spark!” the Director added eagerly.

“Work with Spy and mess with this guy?” he gestured to the other Sniper, “Sign me up!”

“Well…we’ll have to talk about that,” the Director took Glenn’s arm, moving him away from the others to have a more private conversation, “You can’t go around with weapons on studio grounds. And no starting fights like you did in there.”


	28. Not so Happy Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh is not so happy when he finds out what Glenn has been up to between leaving the small town motel to arriving at the studio.

Hugh waited outside, pleased that he had a lit cigarette between his lips. It had been a long day of being forced not to smoke in most areas. His stick was almost out, but he needed another one.

“Hello mate,” a pair of voices caught his attention.

He turned just to see the Snipers walking out of the studio. He frowned, watching the Director pass them. What could the two of them been talking about together?

“You stay out of trouble, alright?” the Director called as he headed off to his car.

“Will do,” Glenn called to the Director.

“No promises,” was Xavier’s response.

“Well,” Glenn turned his attention to Hugh, walking over to him, “I see not much changes.”

“So,” Xavier’s voice was loud and clipped the ears as it hit. It made Hugh frown as he approached them, his attention on the Spy. “This is…a thing?” he pointed between the Spy and the other Sniper.

“No,” Hugh laughed.

“Yes,” Glenn said at the same time.

Hugh looked at him with surprise. What was this? Was this the real Glenn? No. This had to be a dream again. He pinched his arm, but nothing changed.

“So…” Xavier shifted from foot to foot and tucked his hands into his pockets.

“So,” Glenn folded his arms over his chest.

“You want the Spy then? Is that it?” Xavier asked, a challenge tinting his voice.

“What’s going on?” Glenn turned to Hugh with a blinking look of confusion.

“You’re going to have a bad time,” Xavier pulled a hand from his pocket to reach for Glenn’s button up.

Hugh grabbed Glenn’s sleeve and pulled him out of the Sniper’s way. Glenn stumbled about, seemingly unused to his feet. Had he turned into an oaf since Hugh had last seen him?

“Outta my way, Spy,” the taller Sniper growled, “I’m going to put that miserable little shrimp in his place.”

“You’re going to do no such thing,” Hugh growled in response.

“What do you care about this creep?” Xavier gestured to Glenn, “He’s the one who jumped onto the stage in the middle of filming and gave you a smack on the lips! You should be mad at this creepy bastard.”

Hugh tightened his lips and doubled his resolve. After today, he could handle this Sniper. He could handle anything. He was finally confident that he could take him. Granted, he felt ashamed that he did not feel so confident before today.

“I’ll take you on any day, any time,” Glenn pointed at Xavier, growling with disdain.

“What the hell is this?” Xavier looked from the Sniper to Hugh.

Hugh cleared his throat. If there was anything he was good at doing, it was bending the truth. The truth was the most malleable tool at his disposal and he would use it appropriately.

“This is some big misunderstanding,” Hugh explained slowly, “One that will be cleared up.”

“I sure hope you clear it up,” Xavier frowned, folding his arms over his chest.

Hugh felt irritated at the man’s disposition. He glanced over at Glenn to see a man who was slightly out of it, and somewhat red in the eyes. Glenn was not going to be of much help to him in this situation, not with altering the truth.

“I don’t even know why the Director let him work for him,” Xavier grumbled angrily.

Hugh shifted from foot to foot, “But the Director knew he was coming.”

“He what?!” Xavier’s arms dropped as he became defensive. Not quite the reaction that Hugh had had in mind.

“He knew that this man was coming for an interview,” Hugh gestured to Glenn, “An audition to be exact. An audition for a part on this show.”

“The hell would he audition for? The show’s got a Sniper!” Xavier grew angrier and angrier.

“Oh? And here I thought you didn’t like the job,” he put just a hint of taunting into his voice.

There was a pause. Xavier sank back a little bit. Hugh had caught some truth in that, revealing that Xavier did indeed dislike his job, if not hate it. Perhaps his only reason for staying was the contract.

“I’m giving you an easy out,” Hugh explained.

“I didn’t ask for no easy out,” Xavier growled in response.

“Nonsense,” Hugh gestured dismissively, plowing right over the man’s response, “Play along, get _him_ hired and you could have very easily gotten a free pass to tear up your contract.”

“But…he’s already been hired,” confusion was darkening Xavier’s eyes. He was not following Hugh’s train of thought, not comprehending where the pieces fell together.

“Oh well,” Hugh sighed, “It looks like he chose to hire _two_ Snipers, instead of one. Pity, after all that work to let you go.”

Suddenly, Xavier took a step closer, “You think you can just get rid of me, but you can’t!”

Hugh was a little taken with the sudden reaction. He had not expected so much anger. Then again, perhaps he had calculated the perfect reaction being from a different kind of mercenary.

“You and me aren’t going anywhere, Spy,” Xavier growled, his sharp eyes catching and holding Hugh’s eyes.

His breath stopped. It was as if the gaze had caught his air. He could not force it either, his lungs refusing to work for him.

“You already showed you’re not able to be trusted with your own safety,” Xavier took Hugh’s wrist. His grip was tight at first, but loosened as the Spy showed no resistance. He held up the hand in his grasp, a thumb rubbing against the palm of the glove. “I’m here to protect you,” Xavier’s eyes and voice softened, as if with a fondness of a lover.

Fear made adrenaline pound through Hugh’s head. Normally he would have a plan for these situations. Most often, he would have an escape route to get safely away from danger. What could he do? The insane man had a hold of him.

Suddenly, another hand grabbed his forearm and pulled the appendage away. Hugh watched, breath caught in his lungs and feeling nothing but adrenaline pumping through his system. Glenn stepped forward, starting to put himself between Xavier and Hugh. He was a bit taller than Hugh, but still much shorter than Xavier.

“Look here, you over grown oaf of an ape,” Glenn growled, “You’ll keep your hands to yourself, or so help me!”

“So help you what?” Xavier growled, like a man with his hand on the tool to kill.

“So help me, you touch me boyfriend, I will gut you like a salmon!” Glenn growled like an angered bear.

“Boyfriend?” confusion stuck in Xavier’s face voice and especially his eyes. He stared with disbelief at the other Sniper for a long time.

Hugh caught his breath for a moment. His hand grabbed Glenn’s arm and he spun the man around. He started hurrying, dragging the other man along at a lumbering and stumbling gait.

“I’m not done talking to you!” Xavier called after them.

“Hope not to see you tomorrow at work!” Hugh called, as he hurried to the truck. He ushered Glenn to his truck and pushed him towards it. He wanted to get away from the other Sniper quickly, “Get in and drive. Hurry up and let’s go.”

“Don’t be in such a rush,” Glenn rolled his shoulders as he got into the driver’s seat.

They each climbed into the truck. Hugh settled into the familiar passenger seat and buckled his belt. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This familiar sensation of being so comfortably seated with a friend.

He opened his eyes and looked over at the Sniper. He was slowly nodding his head. His eyes were unfocused, yet stared at the general area of the steering wheel.

“The hell are you doing? Drive,” Hugh gestured to the road ahead of them.

“Oh!” Glenn blinked in surprise, “Right! Okay.” He turned the key in the ignition, starting up the vehicle to pull it away from the sidewalk.

The harsh scent of something burnt tickled the nose. The wafts of smoke that were slow to dissipate lingered too long. The addition of a lighter laying casually on the dashboard led Hugh to the sudden realization of what was hanging in the air.  
“Cannabis?!” he exclaimed with disbelief.

“What?” the Sniper looked at him, blinking slowly.

“You’ve smoked cannabis?” Hugh was in utter disbelief at this realization. It had slowed the Sniper’s wits and left him…well…a stupid man. “What the hell! What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that your nose is very big,” Glenn pointed to Hugh’s face, then to his own, “Do I have a very big nose?”

Hugh stared at him in utter disbelief. Why now? Why this? Why would Glenn of all people smoke an essence that alters the mind.

“You smoked cannabis!” he exclaimed.

“You smoke cigarettes,” Glenn shrugged.

“That is different! I am addicted to nicotine! This stuff-!” he waved his hand in the air, knowing it would not clear the thick smell from in front of his face, “It’s mind altering!”

“Feels good,” Glenn shrugged.

“Why would you do this?” Hugh turned to face the Sniper fully.

Glenn shrugged, “I’m in California. I’m not working anymore, so I don’t have to worry about it. Figured I ought to try everything once.”

“Once? _Once_? And you chose right before coming in and barging into the studio to smoke it?” Hugh threw his arms in the air with exasperation.

That was when it hit him. The horror struck him as the day’s events settled into his mind. The puzzle piece to why things had happened the way they happened was handed right to him. Worse, he felt more guilty as he realized that Glenn had been under the drug’s influence when he came on stage and kissed him.

Glenn was smiling and shrugged, “It eased my nerves, so I figured what the hell. I was gonna wait for you to be done. Why wait though?”

“Unbelievable,” he leaned back in his chair.

“Yea, this stuff is great,” Glenn muttered.

“No, you!” Hugh barked, “You’re unbelievable! On top of that, you just set us up for disaster!”

“What disaster?” Glenn asked dumbly.

“The show!” Hugh declared, “You got yourself signed up for a show! You’re not even supposed to be here! And the Director? He thinks you’re gay now.”

“I’m not gay now. I’m still straight,” Glenn put two thumbs up, “I mean, I’m happy. Aren’t you happy, Hugh? Aren’t you happy to see me?” Suddenly the go-lucky happy attitude was gone and the Sniper looked sadly at him. His eyes were pleading for some sort of justification or maybe forgiveness.

“Agh!” Hugh ran his hands over his face, “I can’t even begin to describe how I feel right now.”

“It’s not good, is it?” Glenn frowned. His lower lip stuck out ever so slightly as he pouted.

“Don’t give me that face,” Hugh sighed.

“I just wanted to surprise you,” Glenn’s voice was whiny and pleading.

Hugh sighed again and rolled his eyes, “Don’t make this difficult. I’m trying to be serious here!”

He paused, realizing his absolute stupidity. In Glenn’s stupor, of course he would forget to tell Hugh about important things. That was definitely unquestionable. So, as they were sitting in the cab of the camper truck, where the hell was the Soldier.

Excitement suddenly pounded through his blood. He threw open the door and darted to the side door that led into the living quarters. His fingers grasped the handle for a moment of exhilaration. A smile was already drawing itself across his face as he flung open the door.

“Andrew! I-” he halted in the doorway upon seeing the grungy small man with dirty clothes. The man blinked at him, with eyes red in reflection of the thick cloud of cannabis smoke that permeated every crevice of the living quarters. “You’re not Andrew.”

“Hey! You’re not the pizza guy!” the man exclaimed, giving him an angry frown.

Hugh grit his teeth and balled his fists. He did not give the man a chance to say anything else, as he reached out and grabbed him. He dragged him out of the camper, flinging his arms around wildly.

“Get out and stay out!” Hugh yelled angrily.

A wry chuckle came from nearby. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He slowly turned his head to look. Xavier was standing nearby, watching with amusement.

“I thought I smelled something skunky on your boyfriend,” Xavier teased.

Hugh inhaled sharply, but he kept his mouth shut. Ego thoroughly bruised, he slammed the camper shut. His expectations shattered, he walked to the driver’s side door with his fists balled tight at his sides. Without a word, he dragged Glenn out of the seat and brought him around to push him to the passenger door.

“Get in,” he said dryly.

He returned to the driver’s side, and climbed in. Glenn was moving slowly, buckling his seatbelt and closing his door. All the while, Hugh was trying to wrap his mind around all of this. His hands moved automatically, despite not having a vehicle to drive in so long.

Glenn had showed up to the studio where he worked to crash the episode with a stupid incident that led to him getting hired. Glenn kissed him during said incident. Glenn smoked cannabis before committing to this incident. Glenn had left Andrew somewhere.

He refrained from expressing anything. At this moment, they were still within the other Sniper’s view. He could see whatever was going on. He was not sure what to make this out to be, but he needed to drive away. Unable to do much else, he pulled away from the sidewalk, taking the short route to his apartment. Where else was there to go to anyways?

He pulled into the parking lot and circled the area. He managed to find a spot where the camper truck would fit. Once it was stopped, he slammed his hands into the wheel.

“WHERE IS ANDREW?!” he roared, angry and confused.

There was a long silence as his companion stared at him. The slow processing of his brain on cannabis only made this sting worse for Hugh. What an insult, from the man who he considered his best friend.

He had to consider all of the possibilities though. It was not like he could just assume that Glenn had picked up the love of Hugh’s life and taken care of him. Though, it was looking very clear that Andrew was just abandoned somewhere.

There were other more horrifying possibilities though. Andrew could have died. True, no signs showed that any Soldier had died at the incident with the giant Scoutbots and that deal with Grey Mann. He could have been mortally injured though. If that was the case, how would Glenn feel about coming here and trying to tell his friend the news?

That left a sick feeling in his stomach. To think that Andrew was no more was to think that the last perfect person in his life was gone. Sure he had his friend, but his friend was not his lover.

Other slightly less horrifying options were available. One was that Andrew ran off with that Engineer after all. Tricked by the savvy Texan, Andrew could have been taken on a road trip to unknowingly never be seen again.

“What happened…to Andrew?” he spoke a little softer this time.

“Nothing happened to Andrew,” the Sniper finally replied, “I left him…in Nevada…I think.”

“You left him in Nevada? You _think_ you left him in Nevada?” Hugh grew frustrated again.

“Wasn’t a good idea to all come together,” Glenn explained with a shrug, “I came alone so it would be safer.”

“You came alone? With a bum in your truck?” Hugh growled.

“Oh yea…picked him up somewhere off…I don’t remember the name of it. Little place. I got lost and had to get help to come down to LA,” Glenn explained.

Hugh sighed and ran his hands over his face. There was no point in yelling anymore about this. At least it sounded like Andrew was at a rendezvous point. They would probably be able to meet up with him at another time.

“What are you doing here, anyways?” Hugh finally changed the subject, “You should be hiding from Mann Co, not getting discovered.”

“To find you,” Glenn replied in a low tone.

“Alright, you found me,” Hugh shrugged, “Now what?”

Glenn leaned over and looped an arm over Hugh’s shoulders. Their heads were pressed against each other in the most awkward side hug Hugh had ever experienced. Still, it was his best friend and he was glad to feel safe hugging somebody for once.

“Let’s go inside,” he pulled slowly from the hug. It was awkward, but he missed it once it was gone.

They climbed out of the cab and headed across the parking lot to the building. Glenn kept pace with him, hands tucked into his pockets as his boots started clicking to the same time as Hugh’s shoes. It felt kind of like old times again, when they would hang out together. Granted, Glenn normally did not even have access to cannabis.

Still, Hugh was glad to have his friend. He was grateful enough to offer him a place to sleep in his apartment, away from the cloud that filled the camper. That vehicle would have to be aired out and cleaned before it could be livable again. He just hoped that however much Glenn had smoked would wear off relatively soon.

He showed Glenn to his place. He had him sit on the couch, where he also tossed a spare blanket and pillow. The man was too busy complaining about hunger to sleep though. When they checked the cupboards they found very little to munch on.


	29. Catching Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh and Glenn have a lot to catch up on.

Hugh strolled alongside Glenn with a renewed happiness. Sure, he would have liked to see Andrew, but there was something nice about the familiarity. He had been friends with Glenn for much longer than he had even known the Soldier. The two of them had started work together at Mann Co at relatively the same time.

Their friendship was more than length. When it came down to it, Hugh had been Glenn’s only real friend for decades. The two of them had shared everything together. And while the rest of the team had pissed the Spy off, leaving him in a shaking fury more than a few times, Glenn had been his comfort zone.

He glanced sideways at the Australian walking with him. The man still had good looks on his side. Wow, was he ever stupid to have fallen for him before all of this. It had been years since his crush had worn away, but of course he still remembered how good looking the Sniper was.

“Are we almost there?” Sniper picked up the pace, ever so slightly.

“It’s here,” Hugh pointed as they approached the glass door to the bakery. He had been meaning to return here again, and now was a perfect time. He was already giddy with the thought that there would be two men to ogle in the same building.

He opened the door to find not a cute young man behind the counter, but a young woman. She looked to be maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Either way, she was not who he had been hoping to see.

“What can I get for you?” she straightened up and put a smile on her face, hiding her boredom with a façade of welcoming gratitude for their patronage.

“Honey rolls,” Hugh said, pensively.

“I’ll take some of these,” Glenn pointed to the glass display, as he perused the baked goods.

“Coming right up!” the woman hurried to bag their goods.

Hugh waited, cautiously peeking around corners and trying to see into the employees’ area. Maybe the young man was in the back. Maybe there was somebody else who could tell him where he was during his shift.

When he came to the register to pay, he decided to ask her. He gave enough of a detailed description of the man to identify him, but not enough to make it seem weird. He did not want to give off the wrong idea.

“Dean? Dean disappeared yesterday,” she shrugged, “Didn’t even show up to work. We’ve called him yesterday and today. No answer. Are you guys like…Dean’s family or something?” She suddenly gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Are you his dads! I heard Dean had two gay dads, but he never brings them into work to meet.”

“Uh…” Hugh was not sure how to respond to that.

“I’m hetero-something or other,” Glenn rambled.

“Well, if you see him, tell him his ass is grass,” she told them, “Because he didn’t show up, _I_ have to cover his shift. I don’t like covering his shift. I’m supposed to be watching Monk with my sister.”

“How old are you anyways?” Glenn blurted.

“I’m twenty two,” she said.

“I would have guessed fourteen,” Glenn pursed his lips in disappointment.

The woman made a disgusted and irritated noise, “Men! Grow up!”

Not wanting to continue this awkward social situation, with a man who was already reeling with misunderstanding at what he did wrong, Hugh grabbed his friend’s sleeve and dragged him outside. He did not explain himself as he kept dragging him along the sidewalk to his apartment.

“What was that all about?” Glenn asked, “I was just trying to guess her age!”

“You don’t try to guess a girl’s age,” Hugh rolled his eyes, “You’re not good at faces. Don’t try to guess age.”

Glenn winced, “What rotten frog did _you_ eat?”

“Rotten frog?” Hugh quirked an eyebrow at the Sniper.

“It’s a joke. You know? Because you’re French?” Glenn pointed at him.

“Ha ha,” Hugh forced the words with thick sarcasm.

“Scout makes a lot of jokes at your expense,” Glenn shrugged it off.

“Scout?” Hugh only needed a moment to remember Drake. Antoine’s son was alive then. That would be news that the other Spy would want to know about. “How has he been?” he asked.

“Not good,” Glenn sighed, “Not in any pain, anyways. He can’t get around well though. His eyes are useless and he’s pretty damn crippled.”

Hugh winced at that news, “Anything else?”

“Well, he _is_ recovering. He was on crutches last I saw him. We would have gotten him those polio ones, but we couldn’t find any,” Glenn shrugged, “We made do with what we could get our hands on.”

“And Andrew?” Hugh scratched his thumb with his nail, “How is he?”

Glenn shrugged, “He’s been doing good. Been fathering the hell out of that kid like his own.”

“He…did not come with you,” Hugh noted.

“No,” Glenn shook his head.

“Why?” Hugh stopped in front of the door to look at his friend.

“Well, we couldn’t drag Scout through this damn city,” Glenn gestured, taking in the city in a swooping motion, “So he’s staying with the kid at a motel.”

“So you came alone?” Hugh felt a little hurt. Andrew chose to stay behind and take care of Scout rather than come to visit him. Admirable choice, but not the one Hugh wanted.

“Yea,” Glenn shrugged, “We wanted to be sure you were okay. I came out here to check on you. Maybe see the sights. Then load you up and head back over to Nevada.”

“Wait wait,” he held up a hand to stop him, “What?”

“What part did you not get?” Glenn asked uncertainly.

“The part of loading me up? What are you on about?” Hugh gestured to the Sniper with frustration.

“You. In the truck. Driving with me. To the motel,” Glenn smacked the back of his fingers against the other palm.

“I’m under contract,” Hugh mumbled with a sigh.

“Fuck contracts!” Glenn exclaimed.

“F-” Hugh cut off as a fat man moved past them, ignoring their conversation and pushing right through them.

The two of them shared a confused look. Why were people in California so rude? They said nothing though, as they headed through the front door and to the elevator. They remained silent as they stepped on with the fat man.

They continued in silence as they walked to the apartment. Neither of them spoke, until the door was finally shut. It was as if the tension suddenly unleashed itself upon the world.

“I didn’t bring my ass all the way here just so that you could blow me off like a little twit!” Glenn raised his voice.

“Little twit? You really are stupid aren’t you?” Hugh rounded on him quickly.

“I’m not the one with my tail between my legs and bowing at Mann Co’s wants and needs!” Glenn roared back at him.

“I’m not a dog, you imbecile! How dare you compare me to a beast!” Hugh balled his fists in rage.

“How dare you go on fucking television and not even tell anybody where you’re at!” Glenn yelled at him.

“Not tell you? Not fucking tell you? You fucking stupid bushman, I’ve been unable to contact any of you since you vanished. Which was _your_ doing by the way!” Hugh raged.

“Oh, _my_ doing? I had the decency to pick up your damn boyfriend and keep him out of trouble. I even did your Spy friend a favor by looking out for his stupid annoying kid!” Glenn raised his voice louder.

“Oh yea sure, that’s so very chivalrous of you! Maybe while you’re at it, why don’t you do one of twenty other obvious things you should do as a decent human being? Oh right, you wouldn’t receive praise for that,” Hugh rolled his eyes.

“At least I’m not hiding in a studio apartment like some coward who can’t fight anymore!” Glenn retorted.

“Can’t fight? I can fight! I fucking put that man on his ass today and you saw it! Had I not, he would have broken your bones!” Hugh raised his voice to challenge Glenn’s voice.

“Oh really? What I saw was some pansy ass Frenchie pushing some guy over!” he barked at him.

“You two were fighting!” Hugh exclaimed.

“Yea! That was _my_ fight!” Glenn barked at him.

“Oh sure it was,” Hugh mocked.

“At least I wasn’t the one shoving people around like some pansy idiot,” Glenn growled, “You think that was fighting? That was luck. He wasn’t paying you any mind. Hell, he probably trusted you. And just like every damn sneaky Spy, you went off and fucked up his trust!”

Hugh could not stand it anymore. Not a single word in any of what he said was right or okay. Not from Glenn. He could not listen to this from anyone. Frankly he was fed up and he showed it with a fist to Glenn’s face.

The taller man went down with a loud grunt. He landed on his back, blinking up at the ceiling. He must have been so stunned by the hit. Hugh rarely ever struck him, and this time was probably no different in expectations.

Hugh stood over him, breathing heavily. Adrenaline was pounding so fast through his system. His hands were still balled into fists. He wanted to punch something again.

“Feel better?” Glenn’s voice had softened, as if they were having a normal conversation now. He rubbed his face due to the pain.

Hugh took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. He relaxed his hands at his sides. He tried to forget why he was so angry with his friend.

“No,” he said flatly.

“Hmm,” Glenn sat up, “That usually makes _me_ feel better. Then again, you’re complex like a lady with knives hiding up her skirt.”

“Grow up,” Hugh growled.

Glenn was silent as he held up a hand. He looked to Hugh with patience in his face. They stared at each other for a long minute, before the Sniper helped himself off the ground.

“So,” Glenn huffed as he rose to his feet, “How are we going to settle this? Old fashion duking it out?”

“Just…” Hugh sighed, “Never speak of that man again.”

Glenn hesitated. He blinked in confusion, staring at nothing in particular. Somehow, this concept did not fully process in his mind.

“What the hell, Spy?” Glenn scoffed.

“What?” Hugh crossed his arms over his chest.

“You decked me because of…what? That guy? What?” Glenn kept asking over and over why he was struck for this man.

Hugh was at a loss for description. Perhaps if Glenn was a different person, they could sit down and the story would be long. Perhaps they could sit down with beers and _try_ to talk it out. Then again, there was no alcohol in the Spy’s apartment, mostly because he had not even thought about drinking in the past weeks.

How could he explain everything though? The sensation of being at the mercy of some more powerful and yet insane mercenary was hard to put into words. And for somebody like Glenn to understand was more than he could ask for.

He tried to think back to the beginning, back when he first met the insane Sniper. The man was just having a smoke on top of his own camper. He had jumped down to meet him. In his panic, Hugh had fled. The Sniper had pursued with intrigue on his mind.

How could he tell Glenn that he was afraid? That was not something men did, in Glenn’s little world. Men don’t reveal their terror. Even Soldier, when he was revealing his terror, was doing so for some reason other than terror. To try and explain his terror to Glenn would be to invite ridicule.

It was not the ridiculing itself that he did not want. Rather, it was to tell Glenn that he was afraid of this man. This man was his weakness. This man had control of him, and stalked him all the way to his new home. And then? Then what would happen?

Respect would probably go out the window. The Spy would be mocked. He was not great with secrets, so a few beers would be all it took for him to reveal to others how Hugh was feeling. Then there would be the attempt to tell Hugh he was wrong. And all of that paired with comparing him to a woman.

He wished he had Andrew here. He wished it was his love and not his friend who had come. As good as it was to see Glenn, he did not feel he could be so vulnerable with him. Australians were not known to be in touch with their feelings, even the women were fairly brutish.

And then the thoughts of how things could have been done differently came up. Glenn would bring those things up. He could have done this or that differently. Was he sure that he was a gentleman and did not deserve to be picked on a little?

All of these thoughts swarmed his mind, so he did not notice Glenn grabbing the spare pillow. He headed to the door.

“I’ll go sleep in the camper,” Glenn called as he approached the door.

Hugh winced as he thought of the cloud of cannabis in the camper. That would get all over the pillow. Without being aired out, it would just permeate the Sniper’s clothes too.

“Shut up and go take a shower,” Hugh barked at him.

Glenn hesitated, standing with a hand at the door knob. He gave Hugh a small smile, before he toddled off to the bathroom. Left in the silence of his small den, Hugh rested his forehead against his palm.

He did not even know what he was going to do about that Sniper. How was he going to be able to handle him while babysitting this one? He would have a lot of work tonight, if he was going to play the next day just right.

He was fairly absent-minded when he headed into the bathroom after Glenn. The Sniper was already in the shower, washing days of sweat and disgusting smell. Hugh might have overlooked the smell of cannabis at first, but he had not missed that his friend smelled like a bum.

“You better not be in her to flush the damn toilet!” Glenn shouted.

“Keep your voice down. I’m just grabbing your clothes,” Hugh rolled his eyes.

“The hell you are! I need those!” Glenn protested.

“I’m throwing them in the washer,” Hugh explained.

“What good are they to me in a washer?” Glenn scoffed.

“They’ll be clean in a couple of hours,” Hugh hurried to the door as he heard the curtain whisk to the side.

“I’ll be clean in ten minutes! Would you give us a sec?” Glenn argued.

“I’ll bring you something to wear,” Hugh gestured dismissively, before he stepped out of the bathroom.

True to his word, he tossed the clothes into the washer. He put them in alone, so there would be no chance of getting the smell on other clothes. He did not need to go to work with the stink of drugs on his person.

“I don’t see what the big fuss is,” he was surprised by Glenn’s voice being behind him as he pressed the start button.

He spun around, finding himself facing his friend dressed down to a towel. His wet hair matted against his face. The clean scent of the honey dew soap Hugh had bought permeated from his skin. His hair already smelled like the lavender oil, which was actually not meant to be a shampoo.

“You used my body oil on your head,” Hugh frowned.

Glenn made a disgusted face, “What you do in your bedroom is up to you. You shouldn’t keep it in your shower.”

Hugh sighed in exasperation, “Not lube. Oil.”

He grumbled as he headed down the hall to the bathroom. He reached in the tub, leaning a knee on the edge. He grabbed the oil, taking a brief look at the label before showing it to the Sniper.

“See? Oil,” he scorned.

“For baby soft skin,” Glenn read from the label.

“Exactly,” Hugh set the oil down then reached for the shampoo.

At some point he forgot about his balance. It was at this point that he toppled forward. He let out a yelp as his hands grappled for something to catch himself with, but everything was slippery. A hand reached for him but only managed to grab a handful of the back of his pants.

Already feeling humiliated, Hugh pushed himself slowly out of the tub. He moved cautiously so as not to fall again and further make a fool of himself. When he turned to the Sniper, the man let out a chortle.

“What?” Hugh asked, not seeing the humor in the situation.

“Well, at least it’s not piss,” Glenn pointed to Hugh’s head.

He stepped over to the mirror to see what he was looking at. He frowned at the mostly wet mask covering his head. It was just water, so it was not a big deal.

“Yes, of course,” he rolled his eyes, “It’s so funny.”

“Remember how the RED Sniper used to throw piss at you all the time?” Glenn snickered wryly.

“Yes, yes I remember,” Hugh sighed.

He left the bathroom and headed into his bedroom. Inside the safety of his own room, he stripped away the balaclava and began pulling off his jacket. He looked through his closet to pick out what he’d wear for the rest of the evening. It was too early to dress for bed, considering he had company.

“You don’t sleep in those suits, do you?” Glenn once again surprised him from behind.

“Stop sneaking up on me,” Hugh growled.

Glenn giggled, “You hate when others are as sneaky as you, don’t you?”

“Here,” he tossed a night attire at Glenn, then grabbed another for himself, “Go get dressed. I tire of having a naked man in my room.”

“I thought naked men were your thing,” Glenn teased on his way out the bedroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe catching up on things will be easier when neither of them have weed in their system.


	30. Dreaming on a Sniper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh has another troubling dream.

_All that Hugh had to do was blend into Mann Co. The terrible system could miss a hundred Spies all mixed together. It was useful to know, but it was worthless to a man who did not want to be there. Yet here he was, under the advisement of Miss Pauling, hiding amidst other mercenaries and pretending not to miss being gone from Mann Co._

_The more he laid in the hard bed thinking about this, the more he thought she might have tricked them all. Maybe she lucked out and missed the chance to catch the others. All she caught were spies._

_He turned on his side and tried to ignore the snoring on the bunk above him. Nothing could aid his aching mind. Nothing made him feel any better about his situation. Everything just reminded him of how trapped he was in this situation, and that he had little chances for escape._

_When he decided to get up, he could not pull his gaze up from the floor. His entire body felt so heavy. He was not sure how to breathe anymore. Sure, his body understood it had to breathe, yet there was this innate feeling that he could not breathe anymore. It was a very painful sensation._

_He forced himself onto his feet and stumbled to the shared bathroom. Since the eight Spies sharing this bathroom were all asleep, he figured he would not have much problem. All of them had to use it, and all of them wanted their privacy, after all._

_When he splashed his face with cold water, he looked into the mirror. He looked so different than he remembered. Dark circles around his terrified eyes that seemed to just blend into the mask normally. What used to look like laugh lines just looked like lines of failed years. What used to be a vibrant human being was now a husk, whose only way of living was surviving with glances over his shoulder constantly._

_Pushing past the misery, he lumbered back into the shared room of beds. It seemed a little different than before though. The bunks were now five beds high and looked unreachable. Somehow, there were still Spies laying on those beds, sleeping and not realizing that anything might be amiss._

_Forget this, he decided. He needed a smoke at this very moment. That would probably wake one of the others though. This was a small room, smoke would fill it quickly and there were no windows to air it out._

_He pulled on a coat and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. Hopefully it would not be empty by the time he returned. He tried not to think about it on his way out. He lit up the first cigarette and took a deep inhale. It felt good to just feel that hot breath in his lungs, a relaxing sensation that came from psychological training of having smoked nicotine for a lifetime._

_His eyes were closed most of the time as he walked. Mostly he was just trying to get away from the building. He wanted to be outside, where it was cool and the air was open. He could smoke in peace and the land itself was an easy ash tray. Granted, Canada air this time of year was pretty damn cold, but he was too tired to remember to stop walking._

_“You a spook or a bloody ghost, mate?” a voice startled him._

_He tried not to seem too startled when he stopped and turned. He had not realized that he was passing through what appeared to be a camping area for trailers and camper trucks. This was not a parking lot, given the amount of what was supposed to be wildlife and flora, but it was filled with living trailers and campers that haphazardly encircled ashy pits previously used for fire._

_He raised his head to a figure perched upon a big trailer. His long legs dangled over the edge, dark boots sitting stark against white painted metal. The glow of a cigarette illuminated the man’s visage, giving the Spy a glimpse of the Sniper he had not noticed before._

_Color was faded in this lighting, but he could make out shapes. A sharp nose, a shapely jaw, bushy sideburns and prominent eyebrows were easy enough to make out. Those eyes were hard to see, despite being lit up so well. They were sharp, like a monster staring into the soul. They just glared at him, like they knew everything within his mind. Still, he could not tell what color his irises were though._

_“Ghastly ghoul then,” the Sniper flicked the cigarette away without bothering to put it out._

_“Didn’t realize anybody else would be out here,” he countered, trying to seem calm and reasonable, “Sorry to have disturbed you.”_

_“Not at all mate,” the Sniper did not even miss a beat._

_“Alright then,” he replied in relief. He was ready to move on when the Sniper raised a hand to gain his attention again._

_“You the one that wears the funny hats? Or you the one with the awkward accent?” he asked, tilting his head in a way as if he could get a better look at the Spy._

_Of course, for a moment he had forgotten. What a relief it was to see that the man was just as hindered by the faded light as he was. Given it was night time, the light would not be shining on him either, and as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth, so did the light leave his own face._

_“Neither,” he assured him, “I’m not here to cause any trouble.”_

_“Been trying to figure them out, mate,” the Sniper leaned over the edge, trying to look at him better. It was a bit entertaining to see him strain to try and look at him. “That one with the hats is a bit of a flowery fella,” he explained, “And that one with the accent…he sounds like a faggot.”_

_“Excuse me?” that word lit him up like a flame. He needed to get out of here immediately._

_“No worries, mate,” the Sniper chuckled, with a wry smirk around his cigarette, “I know the lot of you Frenchies are loose. I just want to know which of yous likes men like I like men.”_

_He felt like the hackles on the back of his neck were severely erect. This was not a good situation. This was a very weird situation. This was a very bizarre conversation that he could very well be having in a weird dream at this moment._

_“Well then, I’ll just be moving along,” he started moving, hoping to breach the edge of this camping ground._

_Something clicked in his mind. Something changed. Something shifted and he glanced around. This was a memory. No, this was not a memory, it was a dream. It was a dream where he relived meeting the Sniper._

_“Now wait a minute!” the man sounded insulted, “You don’t just leave in the middle of a conversation!”_

_Hugh decided to turn and face him. This was a dream. This was_ his _dream. He was going to keep a hold of that._

_With confidence brewing, he waited for the Sniper to come to a halt before him. He stared up at the colossal figure with his chest puffed up. He held his chin high, ready for the verbal engagement._

_The Sniper hesitated for a moment, looking Hugh over. He was silent for a long time, just looking at him and trying to decide what to say. But what would he say? What could he say?_

_“Well?” Hugh pressed, wanting to move on with this._

_“My name’s Xavier,” the Sniper offered his hand._

_Hugh immediately smacked the hand away. He did not care for his trivial introductions. He was in no mood to be friendly with this man._

_“I have no need for a name I already know,_ bushman _,” he growled._

_“Oh right…” the Sniper rubbed the back of his neck. He suddenly smiled, a cute and embarrassed smile as he turned his eyes away._

_Hugh’s eyes widened. Why was the man acting this way? He should be angry and boisterous! He should be threatening Hugh and giving him something to fight._

_“I forgot,” the Sniper chuckled nervously, “You Spies dig up dirt on pretty much everybody.”_

_“Oui,” Hugh tried to keep an aloof disposition._

_Something about this did not feel right. It did not seem like this was the way things would have gone. Then again, would it have gone any other way? If he had just turned around and stayed for conversation, would the Sniper have been the way he was in reality?_

_“What can I…what can I call you by?” the Sniper asked, a sweet little smile on his face._

_“Jacques,” Hugh was not quick to give the name, a little hesitant with the uptake._

_“Jacques,” the Sniper breathed, thinking about this name._

_“Do you have a problem with it?” Hugh asked, hoping to get a rise out of the man._

_“No,” the Sniper shook his head._

_“What then?” Hugh pressed._

_“I was just thinking,” the Sniper shrugged, “It’s a good name. I’ll be sure to remember it.”_

_“I’m not the one with the hats,” Hugh told him._

_The Sniper nodded eagerly, “Oh I know! He’s a weird fella.”_

_“Hmm…” Hugh hummed thoughtfully._

_“So,” the Sniper rubbed his neck again, smiling nervously, “You wouldn’t want to get coffee sometime, would you?”_

_“Coffee,” Hugh pondered the concept behind the word._

_Normally, giving Xavier such satisfaction meant defeat. This was a dream though, right? Real Xavier would not ask him to have coffee. There would be an attempt at a demeaning insult. Back-handed compliments would probably get thrown around. Then somehow the man would think he was owed that coffee._

_“I’ll pay,” Xavier offered._

_“That’s better,” Hugh nodded._

_Somehow, he always imagined a Sniper would just offer him coffee in his camper. But going to a café was more date-like. That was a bit more proper, and the way he liked it. They did not climb into Xavier’s truck at all. Instead, they took a car. It was more comfortable and convenient._

_Xavier drove, while Hugh simply relaxed. Much to his relief, the drive was short and quiet. When he climbed out of the car, he found that they were at a café just a few streets from his apartment. He would not question the logic of his own dream though._

_They were seated and quickly given their coffee. It was a pleasant little café that he normally thought could use some fixing up. Right now it looked lovely. Maybe they had taken his suggestions and renovated the place._

_“Must have hurt your face,” Xavier commented._

_“Hmm?” Hugh raised an eyebrow._

_“When you fell out of heaven?” Xavier offered._

_Hugh frowned at the joke. How very stupid. Such a pathetic attempt did not deserve response from him. He would just let silence speak for him._

_“You know?” Xavier asked awkwardly, “Because you fell on your face?”_

_Still frowning Hugh shook his head. The attempt only made him irritated. Why was his dream version of Xavier trying to pick him up with bad lines? It was so childish. They were not schoolboys hoping that nobody revealed their little shared secret. They were grown men, with experience and hardening years behind them. Why was that so hard for the Sniper to understand?_

_“You uh…” Xavier hesitated, scratching at the stubble on his chin, “You don’t talk much in a date, do you?”_

_Hugh quirked an eyebrow at him, “And you don’t go on many dates, do you?”_

_Xavier shifted uneasily, then murmured a little, “No.”_

_Hugh chuckled, amused at the man’s humiliation. It was nice to feel a little superior to the other man. It made him feel a little less proud when he realized how insecure he felt normally with this man. How pathetic he was to need a dream version of this man to make himself feel better about his real life._

_“What’s on your mind?” the Sniper asked._

_Hugh sighed and rolled his eyes. He began questioning why he was doing this and why he was here. He peered into the bitter cream-less coffee. He wondered why he did not just make a fight that he could win. He was in a dream after all, he could beat the life out of this man here._

_“Not thirsty?” Xavier set his mug down, “I know what. Let’s hop over next door to that bakery you like so much. Don’t you like their honey rolls?”_

_“I suppose I do,” Hugh set his cup down and looked up at Xavier._

_Xavier gestured for him to follow, rising to his feet. Hugh followed silently. They both stepped out into the warm dry air and fell into step together. Neither man spoke as they fell into this wordless idea of moving together as one._

_Hugh sighed as he glanced around. There were very few people about. A hand touched his and he pulled away reflexively. He glanced at Xavier warily. The man was rubbing his neck, trying to pretend he did not just try to touch Hugh’s hand. The man had better keep his distance, he decided. Any closer and Hugh might just pull out his knife and use it._

_They paused to enter the bakery. Xavier held open the door like a gentleman. At least he tried something decent._

_Hugh stepped inside. Pausing to let his eyes adjust to the lighting. He stepped towards the displays of treats. In a pleasant surprise, he was interrupted by none other than that strapping young piece of eye candy. He smiled at the face looking at him. He straightened himself, trying to look his best._

_“I’m here for the usual,” Hugh told him, feeling rather bold today._

_“How many would you like?” the young man asked._

_“A dozen please,” Hugh nodded._

_“You want to pack on all of those pounds then?” a familiar voice caught his ear._

_He turned to see Glenn walk up to the side of him, opposite of Xavier. He blinked at his friend in confusion, “What are you doing here?”_

_“I’m here to get muffins,” Glenn replied._

_Hugh felt his body heat rise. He glanced at Xavier, who looked very disgruntled. A gentle hand pulled him away from the taller Sniper. Hugh came along with him without a word of protest._

_“What is it?” Hugh asked._

_Glenn frowned worriedly as he stared back at Hugh, “Spy, why didn’t you tell me?”_

_“Tell you?” Hugh pursed his lips as he tried to think about what it might be that he did not tell Glenn, “Tell you what?”_

_“About him,” Glenn explained, “About you. About how you’re doing?”_

_Hugh shrugged it off, “I don’t see what the point is about it. You’re probably just here for a while anyways. And I’m fine, so what is the worry about?”_

_The frown did not disappear from the Sniper’s face. His concern etched into the wrinkles of his face. He put his hands on Hugh’s arms, squeezing him gently._

_“You didn’t tell me about how he’s been stalking you,” Glenn spoke softly yet bluntly._

_Hugh felt his body heat up. He glanced over at Xavier with a sense of anxiety weighing on him. He did not want him to find out that Glenn was talking to him about this._

_“Spy, you gotta say something,” Glenn urged._

_“I…I can’t,” Hugh shook his head, solemnly._

_“You have to say something,” Glenn insisted, “You have to do something. You can’t go through this alone.”_

_“I’ve done just fine so far,” Hugh insisted, “Besides, what can_ you _do?”_

_Glenn tightened his lips and pulled his eyebrows down, “I can support you.”_

_Hugh was quiet for a few moments. That was when he took in that this was a dream. Again, he had to remember that it was a dream. Glenn was not real. Neither was Xavier. The real Xavier was a creep. This Glenn…was perhaps more mindful._

_“Hugh,” Glenn pressed._

_“No,” Hugh ducked his head, “The real Glenn doesn’t even remember my name.”_

_“Excuse me? Yes I do!” Glenn puffed up defensively, “I remember your name perfectly, Hugh! Hugh Fournier. You go by Jacques as a cover when you’re with others.”_

_“But this is just a dream,” Hugh explained, “You’re not real.” He turned to point at the tall Sniper looking at the baked goods. “He is not real.”_

_“I’m your friend though!” Glenn grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shake._

_Hugh sidled away from his friend towards the counter. He did not want a bad dream. He did not want unpleasant dreams. He made this dream to get away from that. Had he wanted something bad to happen, he would have tried fighting Xavier in his dream._

_“One stroke of dumb luck means nothing,” he muttered to himself in French._

_“What was that?” Glenn asked._

_“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” Hugh gestured dismissively._

_He looked up to see a young woman handing him the bag of honey rolls. He looked at her, puzzled that it was her handing them to him. He accepted the bag slowly, before pulling one out. He nibbled on it, trying to puzzle what was wrong about this._

_“Oh yea, Dean disappeared. Didn’t even call in,” the woman suddenly spoke, “If you hear from him, tell him to get his ass in here.”_

_“Wait…” Hugh furrowed his brow, “What?”_

_A hand took his shoulder, “Hugh?” He looked at Glenn who looked very worried about him._

_“Don’t worry about it, love,” the taller Sniper came up on his other side._

_“What did you just call me?” Hugh rounded on Xavier._

_“Love?” Xavier blinked at him, puzzled by his anger._

_“Don’t call me that!” Hugh roared angrily._

_“You let me call you it before,” Xavier shrugged._

_“When? When have I ever let you call me that? You are never to call me that!” hee shook a finger in Xavier’s face._

_Xavier shrugged, dismissing the whole thing. A hand tapped his shoulder. He turned to Glenn and followed his pointing finger. The other side of the bakery had turned into another store front. Inside the windows were television sets. He took a few steps closer to get a better look._

_He only caught the last part of the Sniper’s line. It was clearly calling him love though. He was clearly doing it on purpose. What was worse was that as far as he could see, the Spy, himself, was doing nothing about it._

_“Spy?” Glenn shook his shoulder._

_“Hmm?” he did not peel his eyes away from the television set._

_“Spy?” Glenn kept shaking him._

_“Huh?” Hugh was not interested in looking away, horrified that he had been on television and had not responded with anger towards the name calling._

_“Spy!” Glenn barked, demanding his attention._

_“What is it, Glenn?” he muttered._

_“Spy, wake up,” Glenn kept shaking him._

_“I’m awake,” he muttered, feeling less control of his lips._

_“Come on, Spy! Get up!” the Sniper barked._

 

 

Hugh jumped, nearly jumping as he yelled, “I’m up!”

He blinked, confused for a moment that he was in his own bed. He felt a hand on his shoulder too. He looked over to see Glenn, staring at him with confused and troubled eyes. It appeared that he had been trying to wake him from his slumber.

“What is it?” Hugh demanded.

“You started talkin’ a lot,” Glenn explained, leaning back on his heels, “Woke me up having a fit about not calling you something.”

“What? And you just barge in here and wake me up?” Hugh scoffed.

“Well, it’s early morning, and I’m awake now. If you were in here having a discussion with some unknown figure I’d have to be aware of it,” Glenn insisted.

“Why would you have to be aware of it?” Hugh grumbled, rubbing a tired eye, “And what time is it?” He turned his head to see that it was a quarter until four in the morning. “Are you serious?”

“If you’re having nightmares, perhaps you should ease up on the sugar before bed,” Glenn insisted.

“Don’t patronize me,” Hugh put a hand in Glenn’s face, “Not in my apartment.”

“Only to your face, mate,” Glenn put a hand in his face, a warm hand sprawling across his face to suddenly remind him that there was no cloth on his face. His head was barren of a mask. “Friends look out for friends.”

Hugh pushed his arm away, then pushed him away, “Get out of my room!”

“Pushy,” Glenn grumbled as he rolled backwards off the bed.


	31. Terrible No Good Very Bad Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antoine did something he regrets...that doesn't mean he is going to stop.  
> He is about to tell Hugh when he makes a //mistake// discovery.

Antoine stared up at the ceiling. What was he doing? He was laying in bed beside a woman who already had a boyfriend. A man who, by her own words, might as well be her fiancé, or more. Had things been different, they would have wed already.

He looked over at the woman he was sleeping next to. She had cuddled up on his arm, with her cheek pressed against it. Her breath gently caressed his skin as she slumbered, completely unaware of his thoughts and worries.

What had he done? Well, nothing tragic really. She was not a pet or thing to be owned. That Sniper did not have claim on her if she decided that she was unhappy. Still, it felt wrong in some real way.

Thinking back on simpler times, he could remember when things were happy with his own fiancé. They should have been married too. They were going to get married, but being the way things were, certain boys got their mother screwed over, whose life was already chaotic as it was with her taxes and debts after raising so many.

He did not have to imagine how it would feel to the Sniper if he knew what was happening. He had been in the man’s shoes before. To come home from war, to see fret and worry for weeks upon the face of his love, then to press until she finally gave up the information he desired. Granted, it was not happy information that he wanted to be told by any means.

He had been gone for years. Being overseas for war was not easy. It was not easy on the family either. Still, he had expected better from his dearest. He had come home expecting a loyal lover, especially knowing that he would be home someday.

He looked up at the ceiling. His head was starting to develop a headache from thinking. His thoughts were too loud. The memories were too menacing. The logic was too thick and weighed guiltily on his shoulders.

 _“How do I know you have not cheated on me?”_ she had spat this in his face. Where in any of his time spent with her had he ever let on that he was a cheater. Then again, it is said that those who cheat are most paranoid about their partners being cheaters.

He frowned at that thought. He looked at Melisa’s sleeping face again. She looked cozy and comfortable. There was even a slight lift to her face, softening from the years of exhaustion. She was comfortable and content.

Beyond that, was there something else? Was she paranoid that her Sniper was out there cheating on her? It was completely possible and not at all beyond all logic. Still, it troubled him that she might go into her first meeting with the Sniper again with anger in her heart and vengeance on her mind.

He took a deep breath as he looked at her face. He tried to imagine how Roxanne used to lay on his arm, snuggled against him. She used to spend so much time cuddling him like that. She was always leaning against him, laying on him, or otherwise touching him in some way. That little bit of comfort always made her feel so content.

Why had she cheated then? That question lingered on his mind and made the headache thump against his skull. There was no way to answer it anymore, leaving him with this conundrum of fretting over it, while it brought him pain and heartache.

He had never questioned how good he was. There had been no question about him being enough for her. In fact, it always seemed like he was almost too much for her. She even put herself down as being not enough for _him_. He always insisted that this was not true, that she was perfect.

Had she thought he was dead? That was something he had tried to reconcile with her in person. In the end, there was no _knowing_ that he was dead. Nobody would come to her doorstep to tell her that her fiancé had passed away. Still, there had been no reason to think that he would not return upon his first chance.

 _“How do I know you have not cheated on me?”_ he closed his eyes as he remembered her defensive anger. The rage on her face, eager to defend herself. It had brought the attention of one of the older boys living at home. They had been ready to start a fist fight with him.

He remembered having to dispel the situation. He remembered how the boy just kept at it and at it, until the kid ended up with a hospital visit that put his arm in a cast. He should not have kept at it like he did. Just because his mother was angry, did not mean he had any place to start throwing punches. Roxanne was never somebody who needed to be protected, because she could take care of herself.

But that just made it harder. It made her a force to reckon with. When the boy came back from the hospital, there was the worry as to whether he should stay or go. Even if he was invited to stay, would he sleep on the couch?

 _“You’re off in Europe, doing God knows what!”_ she had said to him in defense.

 _“Why would I ever do such a thing? When would I ever want to look at another woman?”_ he had implored her.

He closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. It was so many decades ago, yet it still pained him so much. The memory was as fresh and vivid as the newer memories he had made with Melisa.

 _“You never write! You never call! How was I supposed to know you were ever coming back?”_ she had declared. She had thought she was strong in her ways. She had thought her opinions and words had strength beyond any bounds of logic.

 _“Because I told you that I would be back.”_ That was all he could say before the silence fell and he bid the family good night. He had spent the week at a hotel, wanting some space, and wanting some space for Roxanne to figure things out.

It was supposed to be a special time, his return. He remembered how futile his attempts to make conversations about it civil. Roxanne was a fighter through and through, and she would fight even when there was no fight to be had.

It was supposed to be his time to meet Drake. His homecoming was supposed to be about him and his son meeting for the first time. It was supposed to be about reuniting with this family.

He looked up at the ceiling, still biting back the tears. His throat had a lump that would not go away. He swallowed but it remained, like a persistent frog in the pipe. It hurt too much to think about.

Looking back, they had resolved the issues. They had spent many happy years together afterward. They had been together, as if they were wed, for decades. She never cheated on him after he returned. He never cheated on her either, loyal through and through.

They had managed to come to the conclusion that Roxanne’s insecurities with him being gone had had more to do with past lovers than him. Every man who had been in her life before him had gotten her pregnant with a son, then moved on. They did not care about Roxanne beyond the use she had had for them, and they definitely did not care much about their sons. Having met some of these men, Antoine could account for just how ignorant these fathers were, and how little they cared about the boys, each of whom were special in their own right.

Suddenly, the hair against his arm shifted. The skin pressed against his skin shifted. The breath huffed against his arm.

“Good morning,” Melisa whispered softly.

He closed his eyes, “Good morning.”

“What are you thinking about?” she inquired.

“Ahh…nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m just waking up. That’s all.”

“Really,” she yawned, “I guess I should wake up too.”

He nodded, trying to push away all of the thoughts from before. He did not want her quizzing him about his life from learning about even a small bit of his past. He did not want to share that much about himself. He was not ready to share it with anybody, especially not this young woman.

“You seemed like you were thinking so intently about something,” she commented, slowly sitting up.

 

 

Antoine felt out of place in Melisa’s house. He was sitting quietly on the couch. The television was on, but he never minded television programs, so he was not paying it any mind. Rather, it was turned on for the little girl who was sitting on his lap.

Melisa was busy cleaning the house. While she was working, he was babysitting Esperanza, keeping her preoccupied while her mother cleaned. There was nothing worse than a little kid getting in the way while one was trying to work.

Still, it was very strange for Antoine. He was not used to being within such close proximity of such a small child. She seemed to be so interested in him too. She wanted to play with his hands and put toys in his hands. She wanted him to play along with her games, but she was so young that he had no idea what she was trying to play.

All he could do was pretend. He pretended to know what he was doing. He did not want Melisa to get concerned after all. He pretended to know the game they were playing, so that the girl would be pleased with his actions.

“What would you like for brunch?” Melisa called from the kitchen.

“Brunch?” he hesitated at the suggestion.

He had not considered that he would be staying here much longer. Such an arrangement as this should require him to leave in the early hours of the morning. He had felt obliged to help her though, with this simple task of preoccupying the little girl who was now playing with his fingers to make him hold a toy octopus.

“I could make pancakes,” she called, “I’ve got fruit to go with it. Ooh! Have you ever had a fruit basket pancake surprise?”

“No, I’m not sure I have,” he said, lifting the octopus to eye level. He studied it, though he was not thinking too hard about its appearance.

“I’ve got strawberries, grapefruit, pineapple, bananas, cherries and even some grapes! My grandfather used to make it for me all the time, when I went to his house,” she spoke loudly so he would hear her from the kitchen.

He looked down at the little girl. Her big eyes blinked at him. Her messy hair was tousled about her face. She did not seem to care about her appearance though. She was completely fascinated with the man sitting in her livingroom holding her toy.

Guilt weighed down on his shoulders. His heart sank into his gut. His head felt heavy with the realization of just what an idiot he had become.

“That sounds lovely,” he called back to her, unable to disappoint the woman in her hopes for a morning meal.

 

 

The payphone was probably the only one of its kind within a two hundred kilometer radius. It was a surprise it even worked. All of the metal was becoming coated with rust, like red moss climbing along the sides. The phone itself looked old and battered. At one point, the cord had been duct taped together to keep the wires inside.

The booth itself was a shamble of broken pieces. It was barely a booth. It stood on the opposing side to the wind current, making it a boon to the user.

The cold plastic pressed to his ear felt dirty. He felt dirty. There was no point in wincing at putting such a disgusting piece of hardware against his head, because he himself was an awful person who had done an awful thing.

When the phone was finally answered, it was by somebody very sleepy. The voice seemed rather confused that there was somebody calling at this hour. Perhaps they had been asleep.

Antoine glanced at his watch. It was already ten in the morning. Hugh should be up by now. California time must have been about three or four hours behind. That was enough of a breadth for Hugh to be up and about.

The person on the other end of the line yawned loudly. Apparently they had no manners for the phone. They did not really care about who was listening to their noises.

Antoine took a moment to absorb what this might be. The man did not sound like Hugh. Though, he could be sick and the man tended to sound different when he was ill. That did not seem like the thing though. Hugh would have been mindful of his yawning while on the phone, simply as his own habit.

Panic struck that this might be the wrong number. If he got the wrong number, then he just wasted his quarters on this call. He must have dialed it wrong or something.

He looked at the number pad, with a frown. No, he was certain that he typed it in correctly. He remembered the pattern he had punched in. It was the appropriate number sequence to contact Hugh at his apartment. So was this not Hugh answering the phone right now?

Wariness struck as he reasoned out what this might be. Hugh might have moved out of his apartment already. Perhaps there was somebody sneaking around Hugh’s house. What they were doing sleeping at his place at this hour was beyond Antoine’s imagination.

Then there was the possibility that Hugh had company. That thought made him blush. At the same time, he felt a little better about his own situation. It was not like _Antoine_ was actually cheating on anybody. But, if Hugh had another man in his apartment sleeping over, he was definitely cheating on the Soldier he always whined about missing.

Okay, to be fair Hugh never whined. The man rarely spoke of his own private matters. It was clear though that when the Soldier was removed from his life, there was some part of him that was missing. It was easy to see that when they were together, they were quite happy. When they were apart, it did not seem like Hugh was ever the same man again.

“Speak up or don’t,” a rough and tired Australian growled.

A cold shiver ran up his spine. Dread peaked, sending his heart way down into his shoes. It must have torn through his soles and sank into the dirt as he realized what a terrible situation this must be.

He suddenly felt very cold. The wind meant nothing in this situation. The heat of his guilt had melted away as if it never existed. The memory of warmth was gone as his entire body felt like it had lost all of its blood.

“Hello?” the Australian growled impatiently.

He held his breath, not daring to make a sound. Granted, he probably already heard the wind beating on the pathetic blockade protecting the payphone. Still, he was not sure what to make of this situation. If that man was there in Hugh’s home, then what was he doing?

Had Hugh made amends with the creep? That seemed unlikely. Hugh was very bold, but he was also very stubborn. His unique set of skills kept him on his toes, and he was likely too wary of the man to give him an ounce of trust.

If this was the case, then what else could it be? If he was not trusted and not permitted in Hugh’s space willingly…

He put a hand over his mouth. He was shivering cold. He did not want to think about what could have happened.

What _did_ happen was something he needed to get to the bottom of. If Hugh was in danger then he needed to be there for him. After all, they were friends, were they not?

Guilt sank back in, warming his shoes. He should have listened to instinct when he first learned of the insane Sniper moving to California to work in show business. Of course, Hugh knew about it before him. The man was living that situation. What was pathetic was that Antoine had done nothing about the situation. He did not even contact Miss Pauling to try and move him back to Canada. He just let him sit there to wait out the year of his contract with the studio.

Horror made his lip quiver. He bit it to make it be still. He wanted to ask the man if Hugh was alright. Hopefully he had not done any permanent damage to him. If Antoine could get to him on time, then maybe everything would be alright.

“Bloody wanker!” the Australian exclaimed.

The telling click and beeping of the phone having nobody on the other end let Antoine know that the man had hung up. He was sitting there with the plastic to his head for nothing. He was shivering cold, with dread heating his core, but he was doing nothing.

He should have done something to begin with. He should have acted the moment he knew about it. He should not have ignored his friend’s safety when it came into question.

He slammed the phone into its receiver. He slammed it several times. He slammed it hard, wishing it would just break already.

He left it alone as he ran to his car. He should have done something sooner. It was very late, but he hoped it was not too late.

He climbed into his car, compiling a set of procedural papers he would need to file in his mind. He needed paperwork to file to remove Hugh. He needed to file some paperwork to remove the Sniper. He also needed to file some paperwork to get some time off to go to California himself, in hopes that he could do something about the situation himself.

 

*********************************************************************

 

“Who was that?” Hugh called from the kitchen.

Glenn shrugged as frowned at the phone. The damn person on the other end of the line had no respect for people who could not afford long calls. He remembered back when people used to call the house and it pissed his father off to no ends.

“Must have been a wrong number,” Hugh shrugged, “Sometimes people call looking for whoever used to have the phone number.”

“Sounds like you should make it clear that they _do not_ have this number anymore,” Glenn suggested, approaching the counter.

Hugh was busily slicing and dicing. He was humming softly to himself, with moments of silence in between when he needed to focus most. Breakfast was mostly compiled of fruits, but that did not bother Glenn.

“I’m a Spy, not a CEO,” Hugh replied to the suggestion without even looking up from the pear he was cutting up, “I cannot afford that amount of publicity.”

Glenn chuckled and shook his head, “Publicity mate?”

“Espionage,” Hugh suddenly pointed a sharp kitchen knife at him, gesturing with it, “I’m not a foolish amateur! What do you take me for?”

“Someone who has retired to show business?” Glenn chuckled.

“It’s barely different from the show we were on before,” Hugh turned his attention to the fruits he was cutting.

“I’d argue against that,” Glenn replied, “I think this drama is actually getting more attention. You know that Scout guy? The funny guy?”

“Nathan?” Hugh quirked an eyebrow.

“He’s plastered on billboards everywhere,” Glenn explained, recounting his road trip from the motel to this point, “And that other guy. I’m not sure who he is. He’s an actor too I think. A little older. A little scruffier too. Kinda has a pouting look on his face.”

“Neil?” Hugh paused for thought, “He plays the Demoman.”

“Demoman?” Glenn was taken aback by that, “That scrawny guy thinks he’s a Demoman?”

“He doesn’t think he’s a Demoman,” Hugh corrected. He turned to the sink to wash his cutting board and knife. “He was cast in the role, now that he is not playing the Spy role anymore.”

“He was the Spy too?” Glenn laughed at that.

“What’s so funny?” Hugh asked as he turned back around.

“He seems more suitable for the part of a Spy. He doesn’t even look like he’s ever had a real beard before, let alone seen an explosive device,” Glenn explained.

“That is because he hasn’t,” Hugh explained, with a gesture of his hand.

He was not wearing gloves yet, which brought Glenn’s attention to his hands. Those hands had worn black leather gloves for so long that it had almost seemed like they were a part of him. Seeing him without some sort of glove on his hand seemed unnatural to Glenn’s eyes.

“He is an actor,” Hugh explained, “Neil is an actor. Nathan is an actor. Jennifer and that…the other girl. The brunette I think. They are actors too.”

Glenn scratched his chin. He had grown quite a bit of stubble since his last shave. Perhaps he would let it grow in as a nice thick beard.

“Are you going to stand there scratching hair?” Hugh interrupted his thoughts.

“Nah, ‘m just waiting for you,” he shrugged it off.

“Well, be sure to shave that ragged look off your chin,” Hugh said, handing Glenn a plate, “It looks vile.”

 

Glenn chuckled as he accepted the plate, “You’re not my girlfriend. I won’t take orders from you.”

“You will if you’re in my apartment,” Hugh shook a finger at him, “And work is not done half assed. You are a professional, are you not?”

“I’m a professional killer, not a dancing toy puppet that plays on the stage,” Glenn rolled his eyes as he took the fork handed to him.

“Oh please,” Hugh growled with disdain, “You think I like being a part of any of this? I would leave if I had the chance. Unfortunately, I am stuck by a contract that has me delayed. I am stuck here.”

“Well…” Glenn shrugged, “So am I.”

“It’s not the same,” Hugh argued.

“How is it not the same?” Glenn protested, “I signed a six month contract yesterday?”

Hugh almost spat out his food. He managed to cover his mouth with his hand. He took a minute to chew and swallow before speaking again.

“You signed a six month contract?” Hugh’s voice was filled with disbelief.

“Yes sir,” Glenn gave him a grin, “You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh boy,” Hugh sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Ah come on! You’re glad to have me here!” Glenn sat down to eat his food. He hoped he was right about the small smile and the little hum that came from Hugh. He hoped he was right that Hugh was happy about him being here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends don't let friends get stalked by bad people like the Creepy!Sniper


	32. Strange Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hugh has yet another odd dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. Sexual content ahead.

_The room was dark. There was a faint mist. It smelled like roses. Why roses though?_

_Hugh lifted his upper body, propping himself up on an elbow. He looked around, but he could scarcely see anything. The darkness permeated even the mist that filled his nose._

_He swung his legs off of the bed, sitting up in a smooth motion. He looked around again and saw nothing. Could it be his imagination? Surely the smell of roses was too out of place to have come from his mind._

_Nearby, something clicked. It caused him to flinch. His hand went to his suit jacket, only to find that there were no pockets. There were not even sewn up pockets. Why had he gone to bed wearing his work suit?_

_The click was followed by music. A saxophone played, soft and sweet. It cooed to the senses, harkening back to ideals of romance. His hackles should have been standing up with alarm, yet he just felt relaxed and eased by the music._

_He laid back down. He let his head rest on the pillow that he could not see. He closed his eyes, though it did not make a difference. The room here was just as dark with his eyes open as with them closed._

_He took a deep breath, taking in the rose. Where was it coming from? The mist itself felt soft, almost like puffy smoke. It was not like cigarette smoke that burned at the senses. That was the kind of stuff that made nose hairs curl, even if you tried to give it a sweet scent._

_The saxophone played on. Its tone became a little stronger. He felt a tingling sensation running through his body. It felt strange yet great._

_He took a deep breath. This felt so surreal. It could not be real. Yet here he was, laying in his suit, feeling the mist and the music. The sensations on his skin made his toes curl._

_He hummed with delight as the sensation built heat in his belly. It was just right for him. It was the right amount of tingling. It was the right strength of sensation. It felt just perfect. The only way to make it better would be to add somebody to the mix. He needed a face to put to the ghostly misty hands creating this stir in his body._

_When he opened his eyes, there was nobody there. He was left disappointed. Even as he felt the tightening of his pants, he could only feel disappointment. There was nobody here to share this with. There was not even a face to look at._

_He decided to make do for himself. If he could not have somebody there to make his day, then he would make it himself. He closed his eyes and tried to picture a face._

_Then he ran into the conundrum of whose face he should imagine. Glenn was staying with him in his apartment, making him the first he thought about. That was just strange though. He quickly pushed every image of Glenn in his mind aside for this situation._

_Then he remembered the bakery boy. The young man had been a strong looking youth. His smile had been a brilliant white. There was something welcoming about his body too. He pictured the man removing his clothes, expressing himself in full glory._

_He began pawing at the front of his boxers. He needed this so badly. He needed something more. He needed somebody joining him. Even though the image of the young man from the bakery made all of this better, it did not make the setting just perfect. It would have been perfect if he could feel and touch the man’s body, and feel touched by his curious and inexperienced hands._

_The saxophone rose, sending chills up his spine and a stronger sensation through his body. He arched his back and shivered. He wanted so much more now. He began to buck into his own hand, greedily._

_He ignored his own breathing. He was beginning to pant but that was fine. This was perfect, and he would not let anything get in the way of his ending._

_The thick rosy scent filled the air, covering any hint of sexual desire. Still, that did not ruin it for him. Rather, it just made him want it more. If it would cover the other smells, then he would work harder to cover the rosiness in the air._

_He gasped, his lungs desperate for air. They fought to seek oxygen. He could not be bothered, ignoring them from years of knowing what it was like to be out of breath yet still running. It was not as if decades of smoking had done any good to his lungs. Still, he had run for his life during times when he needed to stop and breathe. This would be no different._

_The mist became thicker and thicker. The smell became almost hostile to the senses. The saxophone became drowned out by itself. It was a nonsensical noise, making no actual music._

_The density of the atmosphere had him choking. He put a hand to his throat as he realized just how bad it was. He was no longer sniffing mist, he was suffocating on smoke._

_He scrambled to try and get up. He grabbed for something, but it came loose. Something fell and hit him on the head. He grappled at his head, already feeling it throb with pain._

_A loud bang came from nearby, but the saxophone kept playing. Rather, it kept making its screeching racket. This was no longer fine, so he tried to get up again._

_Another loud bang came from nearby. It was like a door being battered at. He was not sure what to think of it. Maybe somebody was trying to get him up out of bed. Maybe it was Glenn. Maybe he knew what was going on._

_No matter how hard he struggled, he could not get free of the bed he was on. It was as if something was holding him there. In fact, he started to realize that he felt very heavy. Had he put on some weight? No, that was not possible. Sure he had grown soft from so long out of fighting, but he was not heavy by any means._

_Another bang came from the door, followed immediately by a crash. An overwhelmingly bright light hit his eyes. With an exclamation of pain, he tried to cover his face with his arms. It was too much for him._

_“Spy!” a rough voice called in. He coughed as he made his way through the room, closer to Hugh. “Spy?”_

_He pulled his arms back, peeking through them. Xavier was bent over him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Worry was etched into his troubled face as he gently pulled him up. Hugh stared back at him, astounded by his presence._

_“We have to get you out of here,” Xavier said._

_He picked up Hugh, taking him bridal style. He was careful as he shifted the weight of the man between his arms. For some reason, Hugh could not move, as if exhausted by this strange experience._

_The Sniper turned and carried him out the door and into the brighter light. The sun was out. It was brilliantly shining down. Somewhere nearby, a few people cheered._

_The Sniper hurried towards a gurney and set Hugh down on it. The cheering people came over to congratulate Xavier. They patted his shoulders. They shook his hand. They tried to draw his attention away and make him feel great about saving somebody._

_Hugh lay still on the gurney. He had a very vivid realization that the Sniper was staring back at him. It was as if nothing else mattered. They were stuck looking at each other._

_The gurney started moving, but the Sniper followed. Hugh did not see anybody else moving it, despite the Sniper’s fingers suddenly intertwining with his own. He looked down at their hands, bewildered by the long spindly fingers taking a hold of his gloved hand._

_The gurney turned on the sidewalk and kept going. The Sniper continued to follow. He refused to do so much as look away from the Spy._

_“You almost died in there,” the Sniper finally said, breaking their silence._

_Hugh was quiet for a minute. He listened to the creaking of the wheels as they moved over the sidewalk. He could not hear any other footsteps, just the Sniper’s._

_“I suppose you want me to thank you,” Hugh said, snarkily._

_The Sniper pursed his lips in thought, “It would be nice.”_

_Hugh paused, hesitating for a moment’s thought. Something like this had occurred before, but he refused to say anything kind about it. In fact, he had been in fear of the Sniper._

_“Thank you,” he chose the words to be simple and short._

_The Sniper gave him a kind smile, “You’re welcome.”_

_They fell silent for a while. The gurney kept going down and down the sidewalk. Xavier kept following it though, refusing to let go._

_“You should really just let go,” Hugh said, noting their interlinked hands._

_Xavier smirked at him, “You first.”_

_Hugh looked at their hands and frowned. He tried to unlink his fingers from the other man’s hand. It did not work though. The man would not let go of him._

_“Let go already,” he demanded._

_“I told you,” the Sniper shook his head, “You have to let go first.”_

_“I_ am _letting go!” Hugh growled in irritation. What a frustrating situation to be stuck with this idiot of a man._

_The Sniper chuckled and shook his head. He was apparently amused by the Spy’s protests. He had no respect for them either, so he ignored them. This made a burning rage build up in Hugh’s core._

_“Now you listen here!” he started to sit up, but the gurney bumped into something and he lost balance upon it stopping._

_When he looked up again, the Sniper was bending down. He gently pressed his lips to Hugh’s forehead. It was a gentle and affectionate kiss. A soft little note that he hoped that Hugh felt better soon._

_The gurney started moving again. This time, he could see other people in the edge of his vision. He could hear them moving around too. They were taking the gurney, and as it moved away, the Sniper let go of his hand, releasing him to be lifted into the back of an ambulance._

_“What’s happening?” he looked around. The inside of the ambulance looked wrong. He could not put his finger on it, but something was very strange about it._

_“Let’s get an IV in him,” a man said to a woman._

_“Pulse is normal,” the woman reported back._

_“Keep an eye on it,” the man said, rolling Hugh’s sleeve back._

_“I don’t understand,” Hugh muttered. Suddenly his body felt so drained and sleepy. He could barely speak up. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”_

_“Blood pressure is high,” the woman commented._

_The two people chattered over him like this. He could feel the ambulance moving, but he could not tell where it was going. It turned and swerved and moved about the road. For all he knew, they were going out to the middle of nowhere. This was an ambulance though, so he could trust it to go to the hospital. Hospitals were somewhat safe, and a place that he could easily escape, given he kept his wits about him._

_He yawned sleepily. That reminded him of just how drained he felt. Now that everything was said and done, he just wanted to sleep. Perhaps he would take advantage of the hospital’s beds just this once._

_When the ambulance stopped, he was pulled out of the back. He was surprised to see that most of his coworkers were there waiting for him. Even the Sniper was there waiting for him. He wondered how they got there so fast as to arrive at the hospital before the ambulance._

_“You shouldn’t trust a snake,” he suddenly heard the Medic say to the Engineer._

_“Don’t trust him as far as I can throw him,” the Engineer replied, “That’s why I don’t let him stick around my friends.”_

_Hugh felt rather confused by this. What the hell was going on? He looked at the Sniper, then at Nathan._

_“It’s okay, Spy,” Nathan said, with a cheery smile, “You’re gonna get better.”_

_“There’s no getting better,” Neil took Nathan’s arm, “He’s a Spy. Spies are like this.”_

_“What?” Hugh exclaimed, staring at Neil dumbfounded, “What are you talking about?”_

_“Don’t play dumb,” the Engineer interrupted him, “Even_ you _know that Spies can’t be trusted.”_

_“You would know better than anybody,” Neil added with a nod._

_“I am not like that!” Hugh protested._

_“Nothing personal,” the Engineer raised his hands defensively, “You’re just not a trustworthy man.”_

_“That_ is _personal!” Hugh declared angrily._

_“Oh well,” the Engineer shrugged it off, “I reckon that’s that.”_

_“Not yet it’s not!” the Medic protested, “What about the Sniper’s thank you? He’s sneaky, but he should know gratitude!”_

_“What? I already- You- What is this?!” Hugh roared angrily._

_“See?” the Engineer chuckled, “I told you. Snake.” He put emphasis on the word, as if trying to drive home that it was supposed to hurt. “You can’t trust them. You can’t even trust them to be good people.”_

_“That is not true!” Hugh protested._

_“Pah! Prove it!” the Medic barked at him._

_“Sniper!” Hugh looked to Xavier._

_Looking like a kicked puppy, the Sniper turned away. He had his arms folded over his chest as his shoulders sagged. He looked like he had been hurt by something._

_“I don’t understand,” Hugh stated, bewildered by their behavior._

_“You don’t understand a whole lot, do you?” Neil asked._

_“Spy is Spy,” the Heavy butted in, “Is not our business. He does job. Let it be.”_

_“That’s now how things work,” Neil protested._

_“Heavy’s right!” Nathan protested, “You guys should lay off!”_

_“This is ridiculous,” Hugh growled. He pulled himself off of the gurney, trying to stand on his own two feet._

_“What did I tell you?” the Engineer asked, “Can’t trust him.”_

_“Is not possible!” the Heavy looked on with disbelief._

_“It was just a fire!” Hugh exclaimed, throwing an arm up in the air._

_“A fire that_ he _pulled you out of,” the Medic pointed to the Sniper._

_Hugh rolled his eyes in frustration, “Yes, I know.”_

_“Just show him a little gratitude,” Nathan suddenly said._

_Hugh looked at the young Scout actor with surprise. This one had always been on Hugh’s side of things. He even seemed to have this naïve sense of trust that surpassed any sensible wariness. Then again, the normal actors were probably not in the know about how things went for the other shows, meaning that he should not know that any of them were actual mercenaries._

_“Just get it over with,” Nathan insisted, with a shrug._

_Hugh stared at him with disbelief, “Are you insane?”_

_“No. Are you? Cause I’m just saying,” Nathan shrugged._

_“Give_ him _an inch and he’ll take a mile!” Hugh pointed at the Sniper._

_“Back stabber,” the Medic growled._

_“Told you it was a waste of time,” the Engineer said to the Medic._

_“I know. I know you said that,” the Medic nodded._

_“No! Stop! This is not right!” Hugh protested in frustration, “This is not how it goes!”_

_“What?” Nathan asked him. He turned to face the younger man, who was shrugging. “Did you think anybody would actually trust a Spy?”_

 

 

Hugh jumped from bed with a startled gasp. He breathed heavily, gasping for air. He dared not move until he let his lungs take oxygen. He would not make his body thirst for air, not even for a little bit.


	33. Fretting, Worrying, Passing the Time

Hugh could not focus on anything at work that day. Everything in his head was spinning. He was not even sure what Glenn was doing. He was likely goofing off. It did not bother the Spy either way.

He did not even notice Xavier in the corner of his eye. At least, he did not notice him until he was approached. He looked up at the tall man, who looked back down at him with a distasteful frown. The corners of his mouth were turned down, sagging as his lower lip puckered out in a pout. He kept his sunglasses though, making his eyes invisible from this angle.

“You look down and out of it,” the Sniper commented, “Not happy working with your boyfriend?”

“He’s not m-” he cut himself off and sighed with frustration, “Go away. I’m in no mood.”

“I’m just checking on you,” the Sniper grumbled, “First you’re trying to get yourself killed, then you’re going off and getting your druggie boyfriend on the stage?”

“He’s not a druggie!” Hugh grit his teeth.

“Sure he’s not,” the Sniper chuckled in amusement.

“For once, just leave me alone,” he got to his feet and started walking. He was not sure where he would go, but anywhere was better than here.

 

 

August, 2008

Every day was the same it seemed. Glenn slept on the couch. Hugh cooked. They both walked to the elevator to head out. They were stopped today though. It was a pair of police officers.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” the lead officer pressed, “Are you residents here?”

“He is,” Glenn pointed a thumb at Hugh.

Hugh rolled his eyes, “He’s just the bum sleeping on my couch.”

“Alright,” the second police officer eyed Hugh curiously, “Have either of you seen any suspicious activity lately?”

“Not that I can think of,” Hugh shook his head.

“Nope,” Glenn added with a shrug.

“If you come across anything, please call this hotline,” the lead officer handed Hugh a card. It was a phone number for a tip hotline.

“Anything in particular you are looking for?” Hugh raised a curious eyebrow.

“There was a murder back in July,” the lead officer explained, “A young Dean Travelsky. Used to work at the bakery down the street.”

“Nice kid apparently,” the second officer nodded.

“My condolences to the family,” Hugh replied. He was calm outwardly, but as he realized who they were talking about, everything in his mind began screaming. This was the young man who had sold him sweet honey rolls before.

“If you see anything, stay in touch,” the second officer said, gesturing to the card in Hugh’s hand.

“Thank you for your time,” the lead officer gestured in farewell, before moving on to bother neighboring apartments.

The two of them continued to the elevator as if it was nothing. Neither of them spoke, waiting to reach the first floor. It was not until they stepped out of the building that Glenn felt free to start talking.

“Finished cleaning my truck out,” was the first thing he thought to say, “Think I got all the cannabis smell out.”

Hugh gave him a small nod. He was doubtful though. A man who could tolerate the smell of urine for long periods of time probably had just as much issue with the smell of drugs. Besides, the smell had probably soaked into the whole vehicle.

“Think I’ll get out of your hair soon,” Glenn tilted his head forward. His shoulders hunched up a bit. He looked the visage of a guilty man.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not staying in your van,” Hugh growled.

“I used to _live_ in it. I don’t think there’s a problem with it,” Glenn argued.

“That’s not the issue,” he glanced over at the truck parked nearby. He had received some complaints about it from the building’s manager. It was an eye sore and took up a space by sitting there all the time. “It’s not clean until I’ve inspected it,” he informed his friend as they approached the car waiting for them, “Besides, it probably requires refurbishing to get that wretched smell out.”

“What’s it matter though,” Glenn shrugged, “Not like you’re living in it.”

“I have to work with you,” Hugh gave him a condescending tone, “And if I have to work with you, you aren’t coming in smelling like a stoner. To avoid that trouble, you’ll just have to keep sleeping on my couch. If that’s not fitting enough, perhaps the closet instead?”

Glenn started snickering as they climbed into the back seat of the car, “Alright, alright. I hear you.”

He was excusing it all away with his lack of tolerance for the smell. The truth however was much different. The apartments were not the best security, but a thick door and impenetrable walls was better than a flimsy door and thin walls of the camper Glenn used to live in. If there was a killer who struck a man living in this building, then Glenn’s chances would only worsen by living in his truck.

Worse, he had a terrifying feeling. He remembered the young man who died. He even remembered when he disappeared. Something had bothered him about it, but he never said or asked anything because he did not know the man personally.

Yet, there was the wonder about the killer. No doubt the police were hunting for the man or woman who committed this. Hugh had this weird feeling deep in his mind that it was not a woman, it was a man. It was not just any man though.

He could not make accusations without any real proof though. He pushed the thoughts aside and pretended to be engaged in Glenn’s conversation. He was talking about the girl they worked with, Jennifer. She had recently gotten her long hair cut short, and Glenn seemed to be fascinated by it. It was as if the man’s heterosexual attention on women made him forget that their hair was just like his own, able to be cut down to a more suitable size.

 

 

December, 2008

Glenn tapped Hugh’s shoulder, catching his attention. He looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. The man was holding two piping hot mugs, holding one out to him.

“Holidays are coming,” Glenn said.

Hugh took his mug and scooted over to make room for Glenn. His friend sat down beside him. It was more of a flump than a sit. The man just dropped his weight onto the couch beside him without much care for the cushions he was hitting.

“Got any plans?” Glenn asked.

“None in particular,” Hugh suppressed a smile as he detected the signs of a man on a mission to do something special, “Why?”

“Oh nothing,” Glenn shrugged. He looked around nonchalantly, pretending Hugh could not see through his charade. He was not a very good liar, not with Hugh. “That uh…Sniper’s had his eye on you since day one. What’s up with that?” Glenn asked, nudging him with his elbow.

Hugh choked on hot cocoa and accidentally spilled some on his lap. He quickly wiped it away with a napkin, before turning to glare at the tall creep lingering across the room. He tilted his hat down with two fingers, trying to pretend he had not been staring at the Spy.

Hugh turned back to Glenn, who was now looking at him, “Don’t talk about him ever.” His voice came out in such a nasty growl that he had not intended.

“Alright,” Glenn conceded with his hands up, “I ain’t here to press anything.”

“Good,” Hugh tried to soften his voice. It was not his friend’s fault that this was all fucked up. They had been here together for about five months now and Hugh had not mustered up the strength to tell him everything that happened with that other Sniper. “He does not need to be spoken of,” he added simply.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your whiplash tongue,” Glenn chuckled.

“Why? What makes you say that?” Hugh glared at his friend.

“Ah…you got all sweet and soft on me before,” Glenn chuckled, “Soldier was an influence on you, you know?”

Hugh sank in on himself, “I know.”

“Hey,” Glenn patted him on the shoulder, “Let it be. Whatever is going on with you, just let it fall out. It’s nearly Smissmas, right?”

“Christmas, Smissmas,” Hugh muttered, before taking another sip of cocoa.

“I’m going shopping after work,” Glenn informed him.

“I’ll come too,” Hugh nodded in agreement.

“Nah,” Glenn protested, “I’m shopping for your Christmas gift.”

“You never get me a Christmas gift,” Hugh rolled his eyes.

“Well…there’s a first for everything,” Glenn insisted, “Let’s make it a tradition.”

“This means I have to get _you_ something as well, correct?” Hugh gave him an unsavory look.

“Well, yes,” Glenn shrugged, “I suppose it does.” There was only a moment of silence before the man immediately backpedaled. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”

“After work then?” Hugh asked.

“Yea, I’ll be gone a few days with the truck,” Glenn explained.

“A few _days_?!” Hugh exclaimed in surprise.

“It’ll only be a few,” Glenn shrugged.

“You said you were going shopping,” Hugh frowned.

“Yes,” Glenn nodded.

“Shopping does not require several days,” Hugh insisted.

“Well, I require several days,” Glenn pressed.

“Can’t you just buy a card?” Hugh pressed. He did not like the idea of Glenn being out on his own, with no respawn, and a potential killer on the loose.

“Not this gift,” Glenn shook his head, “I gotta leave town to go get it.”

“You have a…gift already planned?” Hugh was surprised. This was not the kind of thing that Glenn would do.

“Yup,” Glenn grinned at him. He was definitely proud of himself.

Hugh sighed and rolled his eyes again, “Alright…when will you be back?”

“I don’t know, Spy! A few days?” Glenn scoffed.

Hugh shot him a glare, “Don’t act as though concern is belittling.”

“It’s not! It just-” Glenn hesitated, staring at Hugh, “Yea. It’s belittling. I’ll be fine!”

“Just be careful,” Hugh sighed. A tight knot had curled in his stomach. Worry was building up for his friend.

“Don’t worry about me,” Glenn insisted with a big grin, “I’ll be fine.”

Hugh nodded, but he was unconvinced. That tight knot simply remained. He would worry and fret about his safety, until he returned unharmed.

 

 

Glenn was gone longer than a few days. He was gone for a couple of weeks. Hugh was left worrying. Pacing nervously, Hugh wondered what might have happened to the Sniper.

“Cocoa?” he was so surprised that he jumped when a tall man handed him a piping hot mug.

He spun to see Xavier, offering him a matching mug of cocoa. He blinked at the mug, then looked up at him. He was confused by the sudden gesture that came out of nowhere.

“You seem nervous,” Xavier explained, “How about you sit down and have a hot cup of cocoa?”

“No, I’m fine thanks,” Hugh insisted.

The hand slowly drew back, “He’s gone for good, isn’t he?”

“What?” Hugh rounded on the man, ready to start a fight.

“The…Sniper? He left you, didn’t he?” there was worry in the man’s eyes. Why would he be so worried though? “It’s not your fault.”

“No, of course it’s not my fault,” Hugh responded haughtily. In truth, he felt like he was a little at fault. Had he stopped his friend from leaving, maybe he would be safe in Los Angeles. “You would do well to mind your own business.”

“I’m just…trying to be consoling,” the Sniper said, in a sad tone.

Hugh did not have any reason or want to care. The Sniper could fuck off. He turned away and moved to another area of the building. He wanted to be as far away from the man as possible, while he tried to not fret about the man he let drive out of town to pick up some inane gift for Christmas.

 

 

Upon the completion of the work day, Hugh headed for the car. A hand caught his arm though. He looked to see the Medic grinning at him.

“Spy!” he spoke in a chipper tone.

“Are you drunk?” he asked, trying to pull his arm away without seeming rude.

“Not yet! We’re going out for a party!” the Medic said excitedly.

“Yes? And?” Hugh replied irritably.

“We are going to go boozing at a few places!” the Medic went on. He was almost bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

“Good for you. Have fun,” he said dryly.

“Come with us!” the Medic tugged on his arm, taking a tighter hold of it.

“What?” he was quite bewildered by the invitation. He was quite certain that the Medic barely trusted him.

“Come on! It will be fun,” the Medic insisted, pulling him along towards a truck.

The Engineer had loaded up the truck. In the passenger seat was Jennifer, who was fixing her make up. In the very back of the truck was Nathan, Neil and the Heavy. They were all chattering very excitedly.

Hugh never did well with making friends when he was working as a mercenary. His only friend had been Glenn for the longest time. Everybody else either distrusted him or hated him. Up until he met Andrew, anyone else who thought they had made friends with him was simply a fool to think that.

“Won’t you join us?” the Medic pressed eagerly.

“Well,” Hugh glanced at the car, before waving goodbye to the driver, “Alright. I’ll come.”

“Alright! Let’s go!” he dragged Hugh to the truck and they climbed into the back. As the truck pulled away, they all ducked down to avoid being spotted by the police. Apparently there was a law about having humans in the bed of a truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check tags for updates. The story has changed a bit.  
> I promise there will be no more graphic stuff. I just need to remind readers that as I'm writing the story has changed, and certain elements might bother some people.


	34. Casino Party with Coworkers

The truck rumbled through the streets and the bright lights. Hugh managed to find a comfortable place with his back against the wheel well. Looking up he could see the lights hung high overhead. It was humorous to look at signs upside down as well.

When the truck came to a stop, it appeared that they had arrived at a casino. He had not been in one since his younger days full of curiosity. Really, such a place had no interest for him.

“Ooh! I love this place!” Nathan clambered out of the truck, “I hear the Italian restaurant has the best pasta rigatoni!”

“I’m pretty sure it’s just called rigatoni,” Jennifer said, as she climbed out of the cab.

Hugh followed, looking at the signs. The casinos these days must have become multipurpose. There was a kids’ arcade area. There were apparently twenty different restaurants. There were slot machines, along with various other types of gambling games. Then there was also a theater for entertainment. Of course there was a connected hotel, but that was barely worth noting.

Then again, was it not worth noting? He had not recently thought about what to get for Glenn. If the man turned up again, he would likely expect a gift in return. Hugh’s gift would have to be magnificent.

He looked over the hotel advertisement with curiosity. Why not a vacation to a real relaxation spot? The hotel apparently had a full spa, and that was something he figured Glenn was not used to getting.

“Come on! I want to hit the bar!” Nathan cheered.

“Don’t have to get hammered all at once,” Jennifer protested.

“Speak for yourself!” the Medic cackled.

Hugh followed the group into the casino. The brilliant lighting juxtaposed the dark that had befallen the outdoors. They made their way to a bar, a strangely dimly lit area with a barkeep wiping the counter.

“What can I get for you?” the barkeep asked.

“Whiskey!” the Medic called excitedly.

“I want to try shit I haven’t drank before,” Nathan replied, “Get me a margarita. I totally need to try that.”

“Do you drink often, Nathan?” Neil asked.

“No, but I’ve drank before,” Nathan insisted, “I’m just like…I’m splurging tonight, okay?”

“Why are we doing this again?” Hugh asked. He turned momentarily to the barkeep, “A martini for me.”

“It’s getting to be the holidays,” Neil explained, “We do this every year. Before we go for holidays. You know, spend time with family and stuff. We like to do something together as a group. That way when we get back, we likely don’t want to kill each other.”

Nathan laughed, “Given our families, we might be relieved to get back to work.”

“You’ll be visiting family?” Hugh asked.

“Sure,” Nathan nodded, “I visit my mom and dad for the holidays. My little sister lives with them, so she’ll be there too. They live in Nevada, so I won’t be too far gone.”

“My family lives in Northern California,” Neil added.

Hugh picked up the martini given to him and sipped it. It was too sweet. Why was it too sweet?

The Medic was loud as he chugged his whiskey. He let out a loud breath and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He had a big grin on his face, like the night was already great, despite only having just started.

“Shouldn’t doctor slow down?” the Heavy insisted with worry.

“The night is young and I’m ready for a party!” the Medic announced excitedly.

The Heavy looked on. He was clearly upset by this, and worried about the man. He must have been very troubled that the Medic ordered another whiskey.

“Come on! It’s time to party!” Nathan held up his margarita for a toast.

Everyone complied. Even Heavy who picked up a glass of ice water raised his glass. Nathan said something stupid and obscure and they clanked their drinks. Before anybody could start drinking, somebody turned and pointed.

“Sniper!” Medic proclaimed. The group cheered happily as they all turned to see Xavier approaching them.

The Engineer patted Sniper on the back as he called for a beer from the barkeep. They all waited for the Sniper’s beer to arrive. They once again raised their drinks to clank together.

Hugh held his martini up in a half-hearted manner. He did not care to get too close to the Sniper. He did not want the man to read this situation the wrong way. Moreover, he was displeased that the Sniper was joining them. Had he known about this, he would not come along.

When the others became distracted, he pulled Nathan aside, “Why did nobody tell me _he_ would be here?”

“You wouldn’t have come, if you knew!” Nathan said, blatantly unaware of just what he had done.

 

 

Hugh stayed at the back of the group during their time there. They moved from the bar after a few drinks to the coin slots. They began playing, which started thinning the group out. He had to make himself less noticeable in other ways, staying far from the Sniper.

After a while of losing money, they slowly made their way over to the bar. He made sure there were a few people there before meandering over himself. He did not want to be found alone where the Sniper could corner him.

“Here’s to another hundred bucks lost,” Nathan grumbled as he gulped down a glass of wine.

“You’re not supposed to drink wine that fast,” Neil insisted.

“Let me drink how I want!” Nathan protested.

They all drank until they were happy again. Then they all decided to head to the Italian restaurant Nathan had mentioned before. Hugh worried they would likely just be a noisy and rude bunch.

Much to his surprise, the group calmed down once they were seated. They were relatively nice to the servers too. The food was not exquisite, but better than some places he had eaten at.

When they finished their food, they had one last toast. Neil, Jennifer, Nathan and the Engineer each stood up to give a little speech. If Hugh had not known better, he would have thought they had planned those speeches out as well.

The night came to its slow close. The group started stumbling out the doors to the vehicles they brought. Heavy was getting in the driver’s seat of the truck.

“Is Sniper okay to drive?” Heavy asked.

“Yea mate,” Sniper gave him a thumbs up, “Had less than one beer hours ago.”

Hugh looked up at the starry night sky. It was so blurry. That was probably the concoction, but he could not mind it too much. It felt good to be drunk.

A pair of hands took his arm. He looked to see the Medic leading him. He was sure that the man was about as drunk as he was though.

“What are you doing?” he barely protested, slow to react to the situation.

“You should go with the Sniper!” the Medic pushed him right up to the passenger door of a camper.

Hugh stared at the handle. His heart was pounding wildly. His mind was screaming for him to say something. His heart was pleading for his feet to run.

The door opened and a hand gently pressed against the small of his back. The Medic was gleeful and giggly as he helped Hugh into the seat. Despite not wanting to go in this vehicle, Hugh could not protest. He tried and tried, but nothing came out.

“See you next year,” the Medic gave a cheerful laugh before slamming the door. He waved in farewell, and the Sniper waved back.

“We’ll get along just fine,” the Sniper’s grin was toothy.

A heavy stone settled at the bottom of Hugh’s belly. He watched the Sniper’s hand as he put the vehicle into gear. He pulled out and the world just started to spin. He hoped he was not going to vomit.

 

 

_The clicking of his own shoes startled him. “Where am I?” Hugh asked the darkness. His voice echoed off the walls, as if he was standing in a large room._

_The lights turned on He looked around in surprise, wondering what was happening. He turned around, looking at the magnificent ball room. His eyes turned from the cupids carved high into the arches to the marble floor. As he moved, his eyes met with the small stage. There, upon it, waited the tall host._

_Standing upon the stage, he looked exuberant. Nothing of the man he normally was, the Sniper was dressed from head to foot in a formal suit. It was lined with silver buttons that gleamed in the light._

 

 _He slowly walked towards the stage. Curiosity took over wariness as he came closer. The man who was typically his enemy was now in his dreams. Not just the normal kind of dreams either. He seemed to be appearing as a man_ of _his dreams._

_“And now, ladies and gentlemen, if you would permit me, I would like to ask Hugh Fournier to the stage,” he gestured to Hugh himself._

_He pointed to himself questioningly, “Me?”_

_“Hugh, please come up!” the Sniper beckoned him._

_A sudden burst of applause filled the room. He looked around, surprised by the people that had suddenly appeared in the ballroom. He was sure that it had been empty before. Then again, he had had little time to pay attention to his surroundings. He was mostly taken in by the Sniper’s appearance at the moment._

_“Come on, Hugh,” Xavier held out a hand for him._

_He approached the stage slowly. So many questions were racing through his mind. Primarily, he had no idea how the man managed to get a hold of his real name, let alone his full name. Only two people alive knew his surname._

_He offered him a hand, helping him up the steps to the stage. He drew him to the center stage to face the people. There were a few flashes. Hugh did not see what they were from, but he was certain that they were cameras._

_“No cameras flashing, please,” the Sniper insisted._

_“What is this?” Hugh’s voice was nothing more than a mere whisper._

_“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’ll enjoy this rendition of_ My Way _, originally sung by Frank Sinatra.”_

_Music started up and Hugh felt his body want to freeze up. He barely knew the song, yet the Sniper just expected him to sing it? He felt heat rise to his head as nerves settled in._

_“You’ve got this,” the Sniper’s hands rested on his shoulder and he was near to his ear._

_The first words came out with near perfect notes. Hugh did not even know how he was doing this, it was just coming out. As he heard it though, it sounded fantastic. He had not thought he could be such a good singer._

_“Keep going, you’re doing great,” the Sniper whispered, pressing his lips to Hugh’s ear._

_Hugh’s voice only became stronger and more perfect. Was it possible for a voice to get more perfect? It seemed like it was doing just that. The more the Sniper kissed his neck, the better his voice sounded._

_Spindly arms wrapped around his middle, pulling his back against the Sniper’s front. The man’s lips meandered up and down his neck. All the while, his hands rubbed the front of his jacket._

_He knew he was supposed to be singing, yet he could not help but try to focus on what the Sniper was doing. When Hugh stumbled over the words, the Sniper gave him a kiss on the cheek. He was nuzzling him affectionately._

_“You’re doing great, just keep going,” Xavier whispered._

_Hugh continued belting out the words. They felt so perfect, as if he had the voice of Sinatra himself. The feeling that this gave him was amazing. It was a sort of power he never thought he could have. It was an invulnerability of the musical kind._

_Hugh finished the song slowly, letting it come to a gentle close. The crowd erupted into applause at his performance. Xavier was still kissing his neck though._

_“It’s done,” he reached up and patted the Sniper’s head._

_“Right,” Xavier barely pulled back. He still had his arms wrapped around him._

_“How? How can this be real?” Hugh asked himself._

_“You made it happen,” Xavier kissed his ear again._

_“It feels too surreal,” Hugh protested._

_“You’re majestic,” Xavier told him, “And when you sing, they sing you praises.”_

_“That’s…kind of nice,” Hugh smiled to himself._

_“Better than sneaking around like a Spy, huh?” Xavier chuckled._

_“What about you? What about sniping?” Hugh asked._

_“Oh…I’ve got my ways of enjoying it fully,” Xavier replied with a smile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somebody stop me. This story keeps writing itself!


	35. Other People are Doing Things, I Guess

Antoine packed the rest of his things into his car. What a relief to finally be leaving this place. Sure, he planned to come back, but not without Hugh. He was taking a file full of paperwork with him from Mann Co.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Melisa asked from behind.

He turned to face her and offered her a soft smile, “But of course. I will be back before you know it.”

Melisa gave a forlorn sight, “I wish I could go with you.”

“Trust me, you’re safe here,” Antoine insisted. He paused to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“I would be safe with you too,” she insisted, with a sad tone.

“Not as safe as you are here,” he insisted. He did not want to travel with her and her child.

“Well,” she swung her arms about, “Drive safe. Okay?”

He smiled and nodded, “I will.”

They exchanged one last kiss before he got into the driver’s seat. He felt relieved to be getting away for a while too. Granted, he would not feel very comfortable knowing that she would be alone with nobody to check on her. There would be nobody here keeping an eye on her.

He took a calming breath and started the car. He pulled away from the ranch, turning his car onto the route to the United States. Screw flying, as it was so expensive. He could just get there in a few days by vehicle anyways. It was not like other mercenaries had not done this before. Surely he could pull it off.

He also did not want to be tracked by Mann Co. By travelling by car, he could probably avoid a lot more easy tells to where he was than if he went by flight. Airlines tracked people, giving sneaky Spies easy access to that information.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Glenn climbed out of his truck and kicked at the dust. This must have been the eighth stop today. If the Soldier and Scout were not here, then he was not sure where he left them.

What a foolish thing to do. He had just sort of put the two men at the back of his mind when he joined that stupid drama. Right now, his employers were probably angry. That was alright, since his contract was coming to a close in about a month.

“You’re the one who smells like cat poop!” a familiar voice roared.

Glenn’s attention was pulled away from the motel he was visiting. He meandered off towards the source of the voice. He rounded a corner of a fence to find none other than the Soldier. He was yelling at some teenagers about something.

He looked barely anything like what he did before. Unwashed for weeks, a scraggly beard on his face, and looking like he was covered in lice. Glenn cringed as he realized what kind of situation he had left this man in, and what he was going to have to do to make him presentable.

“I will kick your sorry excuses for asses and show you what a _real_ soldier does with you commies!” the Soldier roared.

“Uh, Soldier? Let’s just get out of here,” Scout’s familiar voice caught both Glenn’s and Soldier’s attentions.

The Soldier noticed the Sniper and flinched, “Sniper!”

“Sniper?” the younger man looked around, as if bewildered, “Where the heck have you been?”

“I uh…got caught up,” he admitted. He did not want to go into any details.

“Well? How is Hugh? What did he say? How was LA? What was California like?” the Soldier was overflowing with questions.

“We’re all going to California,” Glenn announced, deciding to get it over with.

“Oh really? Says who?” the Scout reached for his crutch and struggled to get up.

“I um…we um…we’re going to go see the Spy,” Glenn explained.

“We’re going to see Spy! We’re going to see Spy!” the Soldier jumped with joy, “We’re going to see Spy! Scout! Scout, are you listening!” He rushed over to the younger man’s side and started helping him up. “We’re going to go see Spy!”

“Yea yea, that’s really cool,” Scout grumbled.

“Can you believe it? He’s alright! He’s in LA! We’re going to go see him!” the Soldier cheered.

“How about a little less…cheering,” Glenn winced as he thought of what Hugh might say about bringing back lice. He looked over at the motel. “I think we’ll stay for the night.”

“What? Why can’t we go now?” the Soldier pleaded.

“Because…” he tried not to gesture too obviously, but gave a gentle wave to the air.

“Oh! Scout stinks. Yea, we haven’t been able to get into a shower in a while,” the Soldier agreed.

“Hey! You stink too!” the Scout protested.

“You both stink,” Glenn grumbled, “Let’s go get a room.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

The hallway was mostly empty aside from the chairs that lined at least one wall. The dim silence was a creepy factor. Still, the Spy remained quiet, sitting patiently as he waited for his turn. It would not be long now, since he was the only man waiting to be called in.

It was still an instrumentally long time before the door even opened. He looked up to see a mousy looking man, peering at his clipboard. He peeked over the edge at the Spy, then quickly looked back.

“Mr. Mann would like to speak with you now, sir,” the man had a nasally and squeaky voice. It annoyed him. Still, that did not mean that he had to be rude about it.

He rose to his feet, putting on a charming smile. He grinned at the man, “Then allow me to see him. I am eager to see my employer.”

The man looked him up and down warily. There was something dismissive about his gaze. He eventually stepped back, arm stretched out to hold the door open, as if it would swing shut on him.

The Spy stepped inside, momentarily touching his hat in greeting, before turning his attention to the dimly lit room. At the other end of the enlarged office was a big desk, with a big chair, and a small light illuminating a few stacks of paperwork, some binders and a giant book. The book looked like an encyclopedia of sorts, drawing the Spy’s intrigue.

“You summoned me, sir?” the Spy strode steadily towards the desk, measuring each step. He used his time to study the room around him, finding it quite empty and barren. It was probably usually used for something else, before Gray Mann decided to pop into Canada.

“Ah, the Spy I sent for!” a grizzled hand took the swivel chair as the old man turned. He took the seat, making it plainly obvious that he was in command of the room and this building. “Please, have a seat.” His wrinkled hand gestured to a wooden stool that sat at the other side of the desk.

He took a seat on it, casually crossing his ankles and making his posture as relaxed as possible. If nothing else, Gray would think this was natural to him. As awkward as not having lumbar support was, he could make do with this.

He turned his full attention to the old man across from him. Wrinkles around the eyes told of his many unsavory years of life. His hands arched, fingertips touching in a gesture that hinted at plotting and malicious intent.

The Spy hoped this was not a bad thing. It was likely that the old man had a job for him. However, if he had malicious intent, that could spell bad things for the Spy. At least, it meant he had to do something to somebody else. Not that he could not pull it off with his stomach intact, but he would rather not have to kill somebody taken off of respawn.

He took a quiet but deep breath. He did not want to let on that he was uncomfortable in any way. Rather, he wanted to pretend he was relaxed and fine with all of this. Still, Gray’s posture was freaking him out, and he had to force himself to look calm.

“I am in need of your assistance,” he gestured to the Spy himself.

There was a moment of pause. The man brought his hand back to the arch, reestablishing his powerful posture. It was hard to call it powerful posture, for such a small, frail and old man. Still, knowing this greedy, manipulative bastard, he had all of the cards in his own favor. That was, unless something had gone awry for him to come to Canada.

“I want you to go to California,” Gray Mann explained.

“And for what purpose, might I ask?” the Spy asked, “You’re taking your time, while time is a very important factor.” He bit his tongue after that. He might have gone too far in speaking that freely to Gray Mann, chastising him about taking up somebody else’s time.

“Well said,” the man’s grin was toothy and gross. No doubt he wore fake dentures in his mouth. “I will be brief for this one,” Mann explained, “You will need to uncover what is going on at the studios down in California.”

“What sort of- Studios?” the Spy was a little confused by this. Nobody he knew of called any of the bases studios.

“Yes, the studios we’ve sent mercenaries to in Hollywood,” Gray Mann explained, “They’re supposed to be giving us a reputation.” He paused, eyelids dropping, while his facial muscles contorted in a disgusted frown. “They’ve done much to display disregard for what a mercenary even _is_.”

“What, besides spying on the actors and staff, is information you are looking for?” the Spy asked.

“Something peculiar is going on down there,” Gray Mann explained, “I want you to find out what it is. I want you to root out these problems. Every detail down to personal relationships. I want all of the information involved.”

“Understood,” the Spy gave a nod, before standing, “Anything else before I go?”

Gray Mann tilted his head up and gave him an eerily toothy grin, “Yes, I’ve granted permission to another Spy to go down to California. He is going down by his own merits. I believe he knows some…things. I want you to root them out.”

He hesitated, digging through a stack of files. He pulled out a manila folder and tossed it towards the Spy. With hesitant hands, he touched gloved fingers to the manila file, flipping it open. He did not know the name, but he knew the face of the Spy. He used to work in Colorado, and had been a working ally when the Spies ended up working for Gray Mann, while their friends escaped.

“And if you find the time,” Gray added, “Find this Scout.” He tossed another file on top of it. He quickly flipped it open to reveal Drake DeLiro. “He would be a prize pawn.”

The Spy was quiet as he gathered the files. He carefully closed them, separating them nicely. He gently patted the edges of the paper to straighten them out and fixate them within the folders.

His mind was racing with panic. He did not want to harm an ally if he could avoid it. He would never bring harm to a friend like Drake though. He could not do that to the man, whose only flaw was being too cocky and letting it show too brightly.

“It would do you well to succeed in this,” Gray Mann pressed, tapping a finger to his desk.

“Sir?” the Spy raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly.

“I know how you Spies work,” the old man explained, “But this would prove your loyalty. Above all, bringing a pawn for me is bringing a pawn for you. You understand?”

The Spy nodded slowly. He tucked the folders under his arm as he stood there. He did not want to do any of this. He did not want to hurt Drake.

“That will be all,” Gray gave him a dismissive wave.

The Spy gave a curt nod and turned to leave. He felt like he was choking on the thick air in this room. He was ready to be gone. It did not help that it was filled with the wretched stink of an old man.

“Oh and Maurizio!” his employer called, causing him to halt and stiffen, “If you fail, or cause insubordination, I will be obliged to send Bleu to kill you.”

“Yes sir,” he said dryly, before leaving the office.

He did not even acknowledge the assistant as he made his way out. He did not pause in the hall, he just kept going. He did not glance around like he might otherwise, he kept his eyes straight ahead. He kept moving like he was being followed.

 

 

It was only a few hours before he was on the road. Maurizio adjusted his mirrors as the vehicle moved along with the rest of the vehicles filling the high way. Having been waiting for his chance, he was following behind a Mann Co issued red car.

Cleverly disguised with silver coating and a license plate that was not issued by Mann Co, the Spy would not recognize his car. He could follow him from a few car lengths behind to their destination. He would stalk him, and not even be seen.


	36. Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> portrayal of murder  
> referenced non-consensual sexual content (non-explicit)

Hugh woke slowly. His eyes did not want to open, but he forced them. He did not recognize the place he was in. His heart began to pound wildly, awakening his hangover.

He was in a camper, laid upon a bed or couch. Maybe it was a couch that turned into a bed. Either way it was uncomfortable, even while wrapped up in blankets.

He shivered, as he pulled back the blanket. It was sticky, trying to cling to his skin. It was not like a normal night’s sweat. Worse, his body was bare, leaving all of his skin to be clung to by this sticky blanket.

His clothes were on the floor. He could see where each piece of clothing had been discarded randomly. As if to save face, the jacket had been laid gently over the back of the couch.

He slowly swung his legs off of the edge. His body had aches everywhere, as if he had been beaten. He would have expected something heavy to have been laid over him from these aches.

He slowly rose to his feet and began collecting his clothes. He was pulling them on when he noticed the record player. It was fairly quiet, making a soft noise as the record turned. Curiosity drew him in as he walked over to it. It had Frank Sinatra’s name on it.

His hands trembled with the record in them, as he lifted it from its place. He paid no attention to the actual player, as he stared at Frank Sinatra and the record title. He could not believe what he was saying. Worse, the song itself began replaying in his mind, as he realized that it was not his voice playing, it had been Sinatra’s.

What else was there? Looking at his person, he knew that something more had gone on last night. From the looks of it, he was either asleep the entire night, or he had been too drunk to remember it this morning. Whatever they put in those martinis was strong.

He looked up from the record at the room around him. Now that he was thinking a little more clearly, having a little more time to wake up, he could see where he was now. He knew whose camper this was.

He finished pulling on his pants and hastened to get a shirt on. The rest of it was laid over his arm, on the crook of his elbow. He approached the door, wanting to flee like hell’s fire was on his heels.

He paused when he heard a voice. “No no, I’ll be back soon,” the Sniper’s voice was clear as day, “Yea. You were right. A few beers. Well…martinis.”

Hugh grit his teeth at that. He had been the only person drinking martinis. The Sniper had been drinking beer, so there was no way he was referring to himself.

“No, I don’t think that’s necessary,” the Sniper chuckled to himself, “I think I…I think the point’s been made. You know?”

Hugh took a deep breath to calm himself. He readied himself to bound out the door. He would have to move as fast as he could to the best location. He had to make do with normal tactics, things that did not require the materials from Mann Co. He had no invis watch or disguise kit. He would have to get away without invisibility.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” the Sniper protested, “Well, we were fine last night! It’s not like anything could change this morning. Yea, so he sobers up? I’ll offer him a beer. Things’ll be fine again.”

Hugh carefully unlatched the door. He moved slowly and carefully, not daring to make any noise. He hoped the man kept talking too loud to hear him moving. He moved slowly as he swung it open, taking each step carefully.

The Sniper was about twelve yards away, standing in a phone booth. He had his back leaning on the glass facing the camper. He was kicking at the ground an fidgeting with things constantly.

Satisfied, Hugh carefully closed the door, so as to lessen the chances of the Sniper being alarmed. If he disappeared before the man returned to his camper, he would buy himself some time. Best off, if the man drove off without checking in the camper, he would be none the wiser that Hugh had left.

“No, I _don’t_ know what you mean,” the Sniper protested, “It’s not like people just change real fast.”

Hugh moved cautiously towards the sidewalk. He glanced around and found his exit in an alley between two buildings. It was out of sight and would provide him with a secret route of escape. The Sniper would probably expect a much more open route.

“Okay, so we have our differences. We’ll talk them out,” the Sniper said, kicking at the metal leg of the payphone, “He’ll understand.”

Hugh felt elated when he rounded the corner of the alleyway unnoticed. He felt so free. The feeling carried him down the alleyway to a chain-link fence. He did not care that he had to climb it, he was free. The Sniper would not notice if there was some noise coming from an alleyway. Hugh was free.

When he landed, his weak knees gave out, causing him to tumble. He grumbled with discomfort as he pulled himself onto his feet. He began brushing the dirt from his slacks as he struggled away from the fence.

“Hey man! Are you okay?” a young Latino man approached him. Hugh was taken aback by the gang garb, accompanied with a bandana wrapped around his head.

“I am fine,” he raised a hand, hoping to escape without getting hurt. He did not want any confrontations, he just wanted out of here.

“What you climbing fences for? We got them up for a reason,” the man protested.

“What?” he looked around, a little confused upon realizing that this seemed to be an area that was claimed by the man’s gang. Other members were silently lingering nearby, eyeing him warily. “Oh! I…didn’t know. I’m sorry. I’m in a hurry.”

“What’s your rush? Life’s gotta be taken slow, or you’ll die fast, son!” the man reached to take his arm.

“I-” he could not make out words, but he recognized the Sniper’s shout. Upon recognizing it, he flinched. His heart dropped into his stomach and all hope fell away as he realized the two things he had sandwiched himself between.

“Are you okay?” the man pressed, squeezing his arm to get his attention.

He turned back to the man and decided that a piece of truth might help him in this situation. It was like war again. You picked your battles, and you also picked your lies. There was a time for cunning and conniving lies, and then there was a time to tell a truth.

“I’m running from a killer,” he told him.

“A killer?” the man looked taken aback.

“Wait! Whoa whoa!” one of his friends, a taller, bald man approached him, “You expect us to believe that?”

He heard the sounds of anger and panic as the Sniper started searching for him. He had bought himself some time, but not all of the time in the world. Eventually the Sniper would check this alley and see him.

“You have to believe me,” he pleaded, in the most desperate tone he could put on, “He’s insane!”

“You look like some guy who got wasted at the bar last night,” the bald man chuckled. He looked over to his friends, who laughed with him.

“It’s true, I went for drinks,” he nodded, “That’s how he got me. That’s how I think he got Dean.”

“Hey!” another young man came strolling quickly towards him. He looked like he was ready to pick a fight. “You know Dean?”

He hesitated, glancing between each man, “There was a man named Dean who apparently lived near me. He used to work at the bakery.”

The aggressive man puffed up his chest as he took a deep breath, “You think _that guy_ killed him?”

Hugh hunched his shoulders, “I have no evidence. I only know enough to say that it would not be beneath him to kill him for personal reasons.”

“I’m gonna kill him,” the aggressive young man grabbed a knife from his pocket and stormed towards the fence. He crawled under a hole that was hidden from the other side by the dumpster.

“You should not go to him!” Hugh tried to call him back.

“Martín!” the bald man called after him.

The man ignored the cries to come back. By the time he reached the mouth of the alleyway, the Sniper had appeared. He probably did not see the Spy beyond the fence, but he saw the knife the man was brandishing.

Hugh winced at the novice and futile swing of the knife. The Sniper easily blocked it and snapped his arm straight. The man yelled in surprised pain, while the Sniper swung him around to slam against a building wall. The man was not a quitter though. He would keep on fighting the Sniper no matter what. Before anybody knew it, he was on his feet again, swinging.

The Sniper looked disgruntled as he flinched out of the way of the knife. Experience taught him well, as he made sure to stay out of range of the knife’s razor edge and tip. When he saw the opening he needed, he slammed a punch into the young man’s jaw.

Stunned, the man was free for him to grab the knife hand. His other arm wrapped around the man’s neck from behind, and gave it a twist. Hugh winced as the body dropped, reminding Hugh that it was time to run.

While the gang was starting towards the fence to do something about the Sniper, Hugh was running. He looked back, seeing the Sniper coming towards the fence. He had been spotted.

He stopped trying to look back and focused ahead. He ran out of the other end of the alley and across a street. He darted between two buildings and worked to get his clothes on.

Once fully dressed and looking decent, he ran to a bus stop. He quickly looked at the sign, hoping to some nonexistent gods that a bus would be arriving soon. And much to his delight, he only had to wait two minutes for it.

He rushed onto the bus and was about to grab a seat when a familiar voice caught his ear. “Howdy partner!” the Engineer called.

Hugh looked up, stunned to see the Engineer and the little graying woman. They both smiled and waved at him, looking as though nothing was different or changed.

The Engineer finally did a double take, “I ain’t used to seeing you like that.” He gestured to his own face, as if there was something there.

Hugh touched his face and realized in horror that his balaclava was missing. He checked his pockets and everything, but there was no mask. It had been left behind somewhere in the camper.

“You look like you’ve run a marathon,” the woman commented.

“You alright, Spy?” the Engineer inquired.

Hugh met his eye and decided on another truth, “No. I am not alright. I have a killer on my heel and I may be the next in the obituaries.”

The woman’s face slowly changed. Her eyebrows rose while her cheeks sagged. Confused horror began to fill the blinking of her eyes.

“What sort of killer do you mean?” the Engineer pressed. Something about his tone hinted that he knew something.

Hugh lowered his voice and leaned forward, closer to the Engineer, “The Sniper has gone rogue.”

“Sniper,” the Engineer mouthed the word as he looked on with disbelief.

“Oui,” Hugh nodded.

“That can’t be,” the Engineer shook his head.

“It is,” Hugh insisted.

“He ain’t bad though,” the Engineer insisted, “Kinda socially odd, but that’s no reason to ostracize him.”

“What are you two talking about?” the woman looked between them with disbelief.

“It’s a work joke,” the Engineer insisted, hoping to calm her.

“Tell her the truth,” the Spy said sternly.

The Engineer’s head spun to look at him, “What?”

“You heard me! Tell her the truth,” he demanded.

The Enginer responded in awkwardness, “I don’t think that’s-”

“Tell me what? What’s the truth?” the woman insisted.

“Lie to her, or lie to yourself,” the Spy growled, “Don’t do both.”

“The hell are you on about, Spy?” the Engineer barked at him.

Suddenly, the bus stopped. Hugh glanced around, before darting off of the bus. He kept running, as he followed the familiar buildings. He needed to get to his apartment, grab what he could and get out of here. He needed to cover his face.

A truck peeled out in front of him, almost hitting him. He flinched back, backpedaling as the Sniper clambered out of the driver’s seat. He slammed the door and came charging toward him.

“You!” the Sniper started running as Hugh made a beeline in the direction he had been going. “Get back here!”

He dared not to look back. The other man had longer legs and probably could overtake him quickly. He knew that fact and he took advantage of it.

He rushed into a parking building and ran into the elevator. The doors closed before the Sniper could reach him. He clicked the button to go up to the top and waited for it to be at the second floor before getting off at the third.

He breathed carefully with relief. He felt like he had escaped the man for good. The elevator would keep going up and the Sniper would be none the wiser.

“You can’t fool me, Spook!” he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the Sniper’s voice.

“You- What?!” he was surprised to see the Sniper charging towards him from the stairs. His feet fumbled and he did not have a chance to start running.

Suddenly, he was tackled to the ground. Hugh grunted as he hit the ground, feeling some of the air leave his lungs. The uncomfortable weight of the bigger man over top of him pissed him off, so he slammed an elbow into his ribs.

“Get off me!” he roared in anger.

“Not until you stop running!” the Sniper yelled in his ear.

That made him wince, “Get off me!”

“Stop running from me!” the Sniper yelled at him.

“You have no right!” Hugh managed to get his arm up and smack his elbow into the side of the Sniper’s face.

The Sniper put a hand to his face in pain, which gave Hugh the opportunity to throw him off balance. He shoved the man’s weight off of him and scrambled to his feet. He turned, looking around the parking area for some sign of an escape.

“I’ve done everything for you!” the Sniper yelled angrily, rubbing his cheek.

“You were not asked to do anything,” Hugh growled, turning to face his opponent. The man was not yet showing signs of aggression, but that could change very quickly.

“I would _kill_ for you! Do you understand that?” the Sniper pleaded.

“No I don’t!” Hugh spat.

He turned and ran to the stairs. He felt it was a mistake the moment he hit the first step. The Sniper’s longer legs would overcome him quickly.

He was not surprised when a body ran right into his back. He was thrown off balance and was sent tumbling forward. He hit the stairs, feeling the edges beat into his body. When their bodies stopped moving, everything hurt.

He struggled away from the Sniper, who was growling with pain. A glance relieved Hugh, as he saw the man’s ankle turned backwards. He gave a self-satisfied little chuckle.

“What do I have to do, just to talk to you?” the Sniper whimpered.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Hugh growled, “I never wanted to talk to you.”

“Why?” the Sniper gasped through the pain in his ribs.

Hugh leaned against the wall as he tried to catch his breath, “I know men well. I know mercenaries well. You’re neither.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” the Sniper snarled at him.

“You’re too far gone to be a man,” Hugh huffed, “And you have no standards to be a mercenary.”

He straightened up and began limping down the stairs. He headed out of the parking building. A quick look around told him that he was near his apartment. With a tired groan, he pulled himself together as he crossed the street and began the trek to his apartment.


	37. Reunion

Andrew felt so clean and refreshed. He was so excited to be in a new place too. Drake and he had gotten very sour towards each other lately. Being stuck in their situation had made things get worse.

Here they were now, in a new place, with old friends. Soon they would see Hugh. Though he kept calling it Hugh’s place, the Sniper had a key to the apartment to get in. Thank God for the elevator, because getting Drake to such a high floor would have been hell.

Once inside they were amazed by the look of it. It was a beautiful apartment, but it did not feel like Hugh. Its big open windows gave a vast view of the den. It also gave little privacy to the people living there. The view itself let in the lights of the city, revealing the holiday green and red theme that filled the city.

The barrenness of the place felt similar to how Hugh would have things. At the same time, it felt off. Hugh would have put something there to make it look lived in. If only just to put somebody off.

“He should be around after work,” Glenn informed them, “He’s not usually gone too long after.”

“Nice,” Drake found the couch and plopped down on it. He sighed with relief as he relaxed there.

Andrew kept looking around. He looked for any sign that Hugh might have lived here. Then again, Hugh would not want to leave a trace of himself behind, even in a living space. He would probably have anything of his hidden away.

“Where is the bedroom?” he asked, rubbing his chin. If Hugh hid something, it might be in the closet.

“Down that hall,” the Sniper seated himself.

Andrew nodded and made his way down the hall. There was a bathroom and a small closet. He was not interested in either of those. He was interested in the bedroom door. He gave it a jiggle, but it would not budge.

A knock at the front door caught his attention. Curiosity drew him back. He peeked around the corner, just in time to see the Sniper open the door. A red clad Spy stood at the other side.

The familiar man raised an eyebrow and looked around, “Not who I was expecting.”

Drake gasped, “Antoine?!”

Andrew did a double take between the Spy and the Scout. The young man’s enthusiasm took over whatever else was going on. He smiled and walked over to help Drake as he struggled to get onto his feet with his crutches.

“Drake?” the Spy pushed past the Sniper, ignoring his quiet protests.

Drake let out a huff. A grin spread across his face, as if he was staring right at the Spy. There was a long silence, as the Spy stared at Drake. It took all of that time for Andrew to remember that they were father and son.

“How’ve you been?” Drake asked, still grinning.

“I have been alright myself,” the Spy answered, “How have you been?”

Drake gave a chuff of a chuckle, “Oh you know. Just wallowing in the dirt. Barely getting onto my feet. Stuff like that.”

The Spy frowned, “Have you been eating well? You’re skin and bones under that shirt.” The worried father stepped towards his son to touch his shoulder.

“We were fine, until this guy ditched us!” Scout pointed a thumb past Andrew at nothing.

“The Soldier?” the Spy blinked at Andrew blankly.

“No!” Drake exclaimed, “Snipoer!”

The Spy turned his attention to Glenn, “Oh.” There was something haughty about his demeanor all of a sudden. Maybe he was even a little stand-offish.

“Mongrels,” Glenn growled, his arms folded over his chest, “Can’t even take care of themselves.”

“I’m blind!” Drake exclaimed in defense.

“He also cannot walk without assistance,” Andrew pointed out.

“Yea, there is that too,” Drake shifted his hands on his crutches.

“You uh..” the Spy hesitated, “You look much better than when I last saw you.”

“Thanks,” Drake replied awkwardly. This was clearly a little awkward to him.

“You could not even walk before,” the Spy went on, “Look at you now!”

“Alright! I get it,” Drake waved a dismissive hand through the air.

“He is just happy to see you well son,” Andrew insisted, giving the Scout a pat on the back.

“Right,” was the Spy’s hesitant addition to Andrew’s backing.

“So!” Glenn interrupted, “You followed us here? Has Mann Co been tracking us?”

“No, I was unaware of your whereabouts. Although, here is not a good place for any of you to be.”

“Why not? This place seems pretty cool,” Drake said, flopping down on the couch.

“I haven’t been caught yet, and I’ve been here for months,” Glenn added proudly.

“Just because you have not yet _seen_ anything does not mean that Mann Co does not have a watch on you,” the Spy replied.

“I think Spy may be right,” Andrew nodded in agreement, “How do we know there is not a Spy following us now?”

“I think you’re insane,” Glenn said dismissively.

Suddenly, Drake’s stomach started rumbling loudly. He groaned as he rubbed his tummy. Andrew refrained from touching his own belly. He was also very hungry.

“You said it!” Andrew announced.

“Said what?” Glenn asked in confusion.

“God, I need some food,” Drake grumbled.

“Wasn’t breakfast enough?” Glenn protested.

“No!” Andrew and Drake both spoke in unison.

“Before Glenn could further complain, the Spy spoke up, “Soldier, let’s get him down to the parking lot. We’ll take my car.”

“Wait what?” Glenn blinked, confused at what was happening.

“Oh boy!” came out of Drake’s mouth like a little kid being offered ice cream, “Where are we going?”

“Well, I saw a small diner on my way in,” Antoine suggested, “I thought that might be a good place to start.”

“You better be paying,” Drake tried to point in the Spy’s general direction, “Because I’ve got no money, and a huge appetite.”

“Consider it my treat,” the Spy added. The man gave Andrew a side eye, like he might be hesitant. “You’re invited too of course.”

“Why don’t I pull the truck around?” Glenn offered, taking a step forward, “Camper’s got more room.”

“Yea but it smells!” the Scout protested, “I don’t wanna go in that thing.”

“It has a very strange smell,” Andrew nodded in agreement.

“It doesn’t smell that bad,” Glenn growled in frustration.

“Do you ever like clean it out?” Drake chuckled at the Sniper’s frustration.

“It smells like an unwashed hippie,” Andrew commented.

“Okay, so Sniper’s truck smells gross,” the Spy rolled his eyes, “Let’s just take my care. The four of us can fit in it just fine.”

“Does this mean that I am invited as well?” Glenn asked, seemingly hopeful for acceptance in this event.

“Merely to tag along,” the Spy replied.

“Oh,” Glenn frowned, losing his hopeful demeanor.

“Here, Soldier,” Drake called his attention, “Give me a hand. Help me up and let’s go. I mean, we’re going right?”

“Yes, we’re going,” the Spy interrupted. He did a double take, looking to Andrew for support on that answer.

Andrew slowly nodded, “Yes we’re going. Glenn can buy for himself.”

“Yea!” Drake barked, “After abandoning us like you did, it serves you right!”

“You’re both grown adults,” Glenn growled.

“I’m blind! Do I have to spell it out for you?!” Drake raised his voice.

The Spy’s lip twitched in irritation at that. He was not angry at Drake, surely. He was probably growing angry at Glenn for what he did. He did not even know the whole of what the two of them had been through after the Sniper left them for so long.

“Wasn’t that Engineer watching after you?” the Sniper growled.

“No!” Drake spat.

“He left,” Andrew informed the Sniper, “He thought you would be back. Said you would have his hide if he stayed.”

Glenn shrugged, “Probably would have.”

“You promised you would be back within a week!” Drake pointed out.

“I told you in the ride here that I’m sorry about it,” Glenn protested.

“Whatever, let’s go,” the Spy dismissed it.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Maurizio stayed a good distance away from his target. When the Spy went inside, he waited. He did not want to be recognized, so while the Spy was inside, he modified his ride. It was amazing that people could pick up decals from just about any car shop. He adorned the space behind the doors with blue wing decals. He then fished a spare plate from his trunk to switch out the digits.

When he was finished, he stepped back to admire his work. It was not too shabby for something thrown together. One of the decals was just a little off kilter, but it would have to do for now. It was not likely that any target would be looking at his decal job.

He climbed into the car and found a little parking space across the street from the apartments. The Mann Co issued car was still there. This time, he noted that there was a camper too, the kind a Sniper would use.

He leaned forward, as he peered at the truck. It drew his curiosity, considering the high quality of other vehicles in the apartment building’s lot. It could be a coincidence, but his curiosity was pulling at him.

He climbed out of his car to have a look at the vehicle. He strolled casually to the truck, giving it a curious once over. It had been well used, with very little love on its paint. It was an early 90’s version, probably property of a handler. He circled the truck, studying its markings. There was very little _unique_ about it, other than the obvious bullet holes that pelleted a rear corner of the living quarters.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself, “Too much to be coincidence.”

He circled the vehicle again. That was when he noticed the battered Mann Co plates. He took note of the digits, memorizing them for later. If he could run the plates, he might have some inane bit of information for Gray Mann.

He flinched when he heard a door open. He ducked behind the truck, peering around the edge. He waited for the people exiting to come into view. They were talking amidst each other, but he did not have a clear idea of what they were saying.

He recognized the Spy when he came into view. His heart dropped when a Scout limped into view behind him. He felt the dread drain his face of blood as he watched Andrew the Soldier and Glenn the Sniper appear too. They were all here and well, and he could literally walk right over and see his old friends.

His breath caught, and he pulled his head out of sight. He was sitting near the Sniper’s camper. If they were leaving, then he would come to the truck and he would get spotted. It was probably not a good idea to get spotted, at least not right away. He at least needed to make sure that he figured out what he would be telling Gray Mann about, in regards to what he saw here.

He pulled back his sleeve and activated the invis watch. He peered around the truck again. None of them were coming to the truck yet. They were headed towards the little red car that the Spy drove. That could be a good sign, meaning they would be travelling all together in the same vehicle. They would be easier to follow, if he could keep a safe distance.

Watching his step, he made his way across the lot. When the invis watch threatened to drop, he moved out of earshot and let it go. He slipped between two cars and pressed his back against the wall. He slowly moved towards the corner, moving closer and closer to hear what they were saying.

“I haven’t had ice cream in like…forever!” Drake was telling his father, “God, it feels like a century since I had a banana split!”

“You are not even a century old,” the Spy protested dryly.

“I could go for a banana split!” Andrew announced. His stomach gave a loud gurgle that brought Maurizio’s attention to how skinny the man had gotten. “After an actual meal,” he added.

Maurizio chuckled softly to himself. He had to bite his lip, forcing down the tears. A lump formed in his throat, forcing pain through his neck. He wanted to go to his friends. He wanted to see them and talk to them. He wanted to give Andrew a one-armed hug and give Drake one as well. He wanted to waltz over and act casual about everything, just to get closer to his friends.

He watched them leave in the car. None of them even noticed him. They did not notice his car either, which was a good thing.

So they were going for food. That information would help him follow them. What he would do after that, he was not sure. Stalking people was not his strong suit. It was not his best repertoire for Spy work.

Still, he had a job to do. If nothing else, he had to make sure that he figured out what _he_ was going to do in regards to all of this. Just because he did not want to tell Grey Mann about them, did not mean he could just tell him nothing. He had to come up with something, but for now, he would investigate the truth.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Antoine clutched the wheel of the car. He was trying to keep a cool head in regards to the matter. That was hard to do when the man pissing him off was sitting right next to him.

If they were to be believed, the Sniper had had ample chance to come looking for Melisa, even if his skill with tracking was poor. Still he had not done that. To top that off, after promising to return in a decent amount of time, the Sniper had failed to retrieve the Soldier and Scout, leaving them with nothing but what had been given to them by the Engineer. It was bad enough that Glenn left them behind in the first place. But then never going back for them?

He wondered if Hugh knew about this. Surely the man would have done or said _something_ about it, if he knew that Andrew and Drake had been left in the middle of nowhere to fend for themselves.

Drake was Antoine’s son for God’s sake. He was too injured to work too. He was staggering around on those crutches, but he really needed some braces and the style crutches used by polio survivors. To top it off, he was completely blind, making maneuvering impossible, since he could not hold a cane ahead of himself to watch for anything he could stumble on.

Andrew on the other hand was Hugh’s love. The man was no doubt still head over heels for him. If he knew where the man was, he would have been thrilled to go to him. He would have had a keen plan laid out and he would have scooped up the Scout in the process for Antoine’s sake. Although, noting the Soldier’s relationship with his son, Antoine recognized that Andrew likely would have supported Drake regardless of Hugh’s choices.

“So,” Glenn broke the silence between the two men in the front seats.

“So,” was Antoine’s dry response.

Why would he want to talk to this man? He was supposed to be that woman’s boyfriend. He was the love of her life. He was supposed to be the man she was going to marry one day. He was the father of her beautiful daughter.

“You have been working in Canada, I presume?” the Sniper asked.

“Why does it matter?” Antoine inquired.

“Spy said he was working up there a while,” the Sniper explained with a shrug, “Figured you might have been up there too.”

“I am based in Toronto,” Antoine answered, stiffly.

“What brought you down to California?” the Sniper pressed.

Antoine tightened his lips. He did not like being questioned like a criminal. This investigation was going to be cut short.

“Soldier, do you have any allergies?” Antoine looked into the rear view mirror to peer at the back seat passengers.

“None,” Andrew grinned back at him through the rear view mirror.

“Could you make sure they put a lot of nuts in mine?” Drake requested.

“Nuts? Really? What are you planning to get?” Antoine inquired, a little confused by the request. Drake never had a particular interest or liking for nuts.

“I haven’t had nuts in like forever. I _really_ want some nuts!” Drake pleaded.

“Alright,” Antoine chuckled, “You can have whatever you like.”

“Filled with nuts!” the Soldier’s grin was mischievous, hinting that he just made a joke of what he just said.

“Yea, that’s what I said,” Drake replied.

“Filled with _nuuuuuuuts_!” Andrew pressed, giggling.

“I think that’s enough of that,” Antoine insisted, “We’re almost there.”

“Right,” the Sniper grumbled.

“Please be on your best behavior,” Antoine requested, as he pulled into the parking lot of a diner he had passed along the way.

“I make no promises,” the Soldier giggled.

“Oh my God!” Drake exclaimed loudly.

“What?” Antoine felt his heart leap with fright. He was startled that something might be wrong with his son.

“I just got that! Nuts! Oh my God! Soldier!” Drake punched Soldier on the shoulder.


	38. Chaotic Drive of Nonsense

Antoine was relieved to be out of the diner. Drake and the Soldier had eaten through a giant bill he had to pay. He managed to keep the Sniper off of his bill, but that did not help him by much.

He realized that it did not matter that much. It was not as if he was struggling to pay bills and such. He could afford to splurge to feed two starving men.

“Hey Soldier!” Drake called Andrew’s attention, “Race you to the car!”

Drake started hurrying towards the car. The Soldier hurried after him, making sure he did not divert off of the path towards the vehicle. The Sniper rushed after them, but did not seem like he was joining in on the race. Rather, he was just trying to get away from the Spy.

Antoine almost rushed after them, but he caught sight of something on the ground. He stopped and looked upon the red fedora. Curiosity piqued while panic brought memories of the numerous RED mercenaries that wore red fedoras.

He bent down to pick up the hat. It looked just like a normal hat, but with the unique red hue that Mann Co used. He checked the browband, but found nothing but a Mann Co brand. Of course, it was one of Mann Co’s own hats.

He turned the hat over to look it over. Inside it was a small folded piece of paper. His hackles rose upon seeing it, realizing that this was a keenly placed message from some other mercenary. By leaving it for him to find, the person must expect him to keep this quiet.

So, instead of pulling the paper out and unfolding it, he flipped the hat over and placed it on his head. He gave it a tap, placing it firmly on his head. He continued to the car, planning his future attempt to read it without anyone finding out about it. He approached the car and quickly unlocked it.

“Hey Spy,” the Sniper was the first to call him out, “Where’d you get the hat?”

“Hmm?” he feigned ignorance.

“Doesn’t he usually wear a hat?” Drake asked.

“I think he had that when we were in the restaurant,” Andrew added, “He just took it off to be polite.”

“I am pretty sure I would remember that,” the Sniper frowned.

“Whatever, can you guys just hurry up!” Drake slapped the top of the car.

“Drake! Be good to the car. I’m on thin ice for vehicles. Considering how the last one…went up in flames in the mountains,” Antoine scorned him, though his voice grew weaker as he spoke. He just could not scorn Drake as he remembered the tragedies of the past.

“Oh…yea,” Drake sounded like he was remembering it, with a forlorn frown as he stared blindly at the car.

“Just get in,” Antoine sat down into his seat.

“See you lot at the apartment,” the Sniper grumbled, before heading off to his camper truck.

“Leased car beats dirty old van any day!” Drake clambered into the back seat.

“It’s a truck!” the Sniper corrected, as he unlocked his vehicle.

Antoine buckled up, waiting for his passengers to do the same. He started up the vehicle and put it in reverse. While he paused to watch for the truck, considering the Sniper could easily cause damage to his own car with just a little bump of his truck, he had a few moments to think about the hat. The note in the hat may be important, but he did not want to alarm anybody just yet. Drake could not see if he pulled something out of his hat, but the Soldier was sitting right in the passenger seat beside him.

He waited patiently for the Sniper to leave first. He pulled out of the parking lot after him. He then followed the truck over to a highway. It was apparently the faster way to get between this area and the apartment. He would take the Sniper’s word for this, considering he did not know the area himself.

The ride was silent for a long while. They just sat in silence as Antoine took note of the area around them. They might have to come this way again later. He did not want to have to rely on the Sniper to navigate this area.

“So, what brought you down to California?” Drake was putting his feet up on the center console.

Mildly irritated, Antoine pushed his son’s feet off of the console. He paused to brush off any dirt that might have accumulated on the plastic from his dirty shoes. Not only was _he_ barely washed, but his clothes smelled and looked rank. There was not a doubt that they had been living with scarce showers and fewer laundromats. It struck Antoine as odd that a cocky young man like Drake would let himself succumb to that, given how proud he was about his physique.

That thought worried him though. If Drake’s current disability was hindering his pride in his physique, he might not be doing well. He might not even be taking care of himself. If he was not taking showers, what other hygienic processes had he been skipping? It was more than likely high time to take him to a doctor to be sure he had not accumulated anything from being unhygienic.

“There is a…troubling turn of events,” Antoine explained.

“What kind of turn of events,” Drake pressed.

Antoine pursed his lips as he thought about it. Obviously he could not divulge the _entirety_ of what he knew about what was going on. Part of the story was private and Hugh’s business alone. Not to mention the Soldier listening in on this conversation was probably the last person that Hugh wanted to know about this stalker Sniper. Antoine was not certain about how he would react to the facts regarding this serial killer turned mercenary.

“Maybe it’s something we’re not supposed to know about,” the Soldier ducked his head a bit, seeming to cave to the understanding that when Antoine would not share, he would never give up the information.

“Well,” Antoine sighed as he tried to formulate a full thought for what he wanted to say.

“Yea, but like…why’d you go see Spy? I thought you were working different jobs?” Drake explained, “You said over breakfast that you’ve been up in Canada with the Mexicans.”

“Mexico is down south, son,” the Soldier interrupted, “North is Frenchmen and Icemen.”

Antoine hesitated, completely flabbergasted by what the Soldier just said. He processed his words, then shook his head. He decided that it was best to take the man’s little outbursts with a grain of salt. Besides, he knew this one to say a lot of weird things in the past that made absolutely no sense.

“If you must know,” he cleared his throat in hesitation, “I was worried for the Spy’s safety.”

“You were worried?” Drake leaned forward so that he would be closer to the driver for this discussion, “What’s happened to him? What’s going on?”

“Well…” Antoine hesitated, glancing at the Soldier. The American was watching him, big blue eyes intensely focused on him. No doubt he noticed that little glance. “I am not sure that I can divulge that part. All I can tell you at this time is that I came down here to check on his safety and move him to a new location.”

“And…is he okay?” the Soldier inquired, eyebrows furrowing.

“I…” Antoine felt stupid all of a sudden. He came here for Hugh, and he could have just gone to the studio to see him. Yet, he had made a day of feeding his son and the Soldier. It was a kind thing to do, but it was not part of his prerogative. “I have not yet seen him, since I came down here.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?” Drake pressed, curiously.

“I-” Antoine glanced in the rearview mirror. Much to his surprise, he recognized that car. Where he recognized that car was beyond him, but he was certain that he recognized it.

The hat placement and the car following could not be coincidental. With his son and the Soldier in the car, it would not be safe to let them be in the line of fire. Neither of them were even paying attention to their surroundings enough to notice a vehicle of such suspicious origins.

“Drake, duck your head,” he demanded.

The Scout scoffed, “Why?”

Antoine’s eyes flickered between the road and the rear view mirror. That car was not yet swaying, not yet aware that it had been caught. No doubt the driver thought they had been safe to get closer.

“Soldier, get down,” Antoine ordered, “Hands over your head and stay low.”

“Yes sir!” the Soldier barked. He gave no protest, putting on hand on his head as he bowed. He put the other hand on Drake’s head, pulling him down low.

“Hey! What the-!” Drake protested to the manhandling.

“We may be being followed,” Antoine informed them.

“The car behind us…” the Soldier briefly raised his head, “It does not look familiar.”

“I have seen it somewhere,” Antoine assured him.

“Yea, you seen one car you seen a million!” Drake growled, struggling against the big hand on his head.

“You two stay down!” Antoine ordered, “I’ll figure something out.”

He turned his attention to the road ahead, maneuvering to where nobody could follow him. Satisfied, he smiled as he looked at the rear view mirror. Much to his surprise and dismay, the car moved right in behind him. His jaw dropped in shock at this finding.

“What’s happening? Stop swerving!” Drake protested.

“Did we lose ‘em?” the Soldier asked, wanting to peek up.

“No,” Antoine’s voice was bitter, as he stepped on the gas, “Brace yourselves.”

He swerved into the other lane, where cars were blocking that other car. He moved back and forth, weaving amidst the vehicles to try and lose that car. No doubt they knew what his car looked like. He would have to lose him somewhere much easier to hide. He would need the big rigs.

He took an off ramp, following some cars towards a wider freeway, where large trucks littered the road. He could already see the silver car following him. It did not even seemed hindered by any of this. The driver must have been well practiced at this, because he was handling his vehicle better than Antoine felt behind his own wheel. This frustrated him to no end, as he could not get farther than a few cars’ lengths away from the vehicle.

“Slow down already!” Drake proclaimed in frustration.

“I am sorry, but I cannot slow down until I lose this vehicle,” Antoine argued.

“We’re not going to lose him in the mountains,” the Soldier stated.

“What?” Antoine gave the man a curious look.

“Look, there is only one freeway,” the Soldier was raising his head to point ahead of them. It was true, this freeway was going into the mountains, where there were no other roads or pathways. There were two ways to go, making things easier for the other driver to keep following them. “Dammit,” Antoine cursed beneath his breath.

“What if it’s not following us?” Drake inquired.

“It’s following us,” Antoine assured him.

“I think we should get off of this freeway,” the Soldier pressed.

“I don’t have much room to get off,” Antoine argued, as he scanned the area ahead.  
“Guys, if we’re going the wrong way, how are we getting back?” Drake asked.

“We will worry about that later,” Antoine insisted, searching for a way to escape this one way passage.

“There!” the Soldier pointed, “A turn around!”

It was a dirt path. It was not much, and could probably be overlooked easily. Given the speeds they were going, they would spin out. He would have to slow down first, he only hoped that the car behind them did not catch on quickly enough.

He let off the gas a bit, bringing the car’s speed down as they approached the turn around. It was simple to cross. Once they hit asphalt, he hit the gas and they were speeding off again.

“Ha hah!” he barked joyously. He looked out the side view mirror to see what the car was doing.

His face sank as he watched. The car barely even slowed down. It just swerved across the road before making a wide turn. It hopped off of the dirt onto asphalt. It slowed down for a bit, before speeding back up to catch up to them.

“How did he do that?” the words just spilled from his mouth.

“That is one cunning trick driver,” the Soldier commented.

“How cunning?” Drake inquired.

“He just flipped around without slowing down like we…did…” the Soldier’s words trailed off as he looked at Antoine.

“Holy shit, I wanna see that!” Drake whined.

“Keep your head down son,” the Soldier insisted, “We aren’t out of hot water yet!”

“This man is getting on my nerves,” Antoine put the vehicle into a higher gear, raising his speed as he weaved around the other cars.

“He’s keeping up with us,” the Soldier informed him.

“Dammit,” Antoine growled with disdain for the driver following them.

“What is your plan now?” Drake asked.

Antoine pushed Drake back by his head, forcing him back into the back seats, “Keep your head down!”

“No problem, but how’re you driving if your head’s down?” Drake asked.

“I am not putting my head down while I’m driving,” Antoine answered.

“Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous for the _driver’s_ head to be up?” Drake asked, with a poignantly whiney tone.

“Don’t get smart,” Antoine growled, keeping an eye on the car following them.

“Don’t you think if they intended to shoot us, then they would have already?” the Soldier suggested.

“Why would they shoot in view of so many people?” Antoine replied, eyeing the Soldier sideways, “Why not wait for the _perfect_ time?”

“All I am saying is there is a chance that they are nonlethal,” the Soldier explained.

“At this point, they know that we know they are following us,” Antoine told him, “They are sticking too close now. But, do they know that we know that they know that we know they are following us?”

“I do not follow,” the Soldier blinked at him with confusion.

“Just let me deal with this,” Antoine muttered, turning his full attention to driving.

This driver was not just fast. Their reflexes were well equipped for this job, and their moves were tight. The car was small, a perfect size to fit into small spaces. It did not have much power though, giving it a disadvantage that Antoine’s car also had. It seemed to be the way the driver handled the vehicle that made all of the difference. While Antoine struggled through every turn and fought for space on the road, this driver weaved through people like they were not worth the time bickering with. The road just sort of made way for this driver in ways that Antoine could not believe.

“How is he doing that?” he asked under his breath.

“You know, I only ever knew one Spy who was any good with cars,” Drake spoke up.

“Not now, Scout,” Antoine snapped, trying to keep an eye out for another opening to move around all of the other cars.

“If you’re right, and we’re being followed by a Spy from Mann Co, why wouldn’t it be Maurice?” Drake asked.

“You know four of the dozens of Spies,” Antoine explained, “Only four.”

“This man, our other Spy, Maurice and René,” the Soldier counted out on one hand.

“Gee and I wonder how many other Spies can drive like Maurice can without flinching?” Drake went on.

“Maurice got Price killed,” the Soldier argued, “He would not be driving behind the wheel like this again.”

“Maybe,” Drake conceded, “Maybe not.”

“No more maybes!” Antoine lost track of the car. He searched every mirror, panicking about where it might have gone.

“We don’t have time to worry about this,” the Soldier growled, turning in his seat towards his window.

“We got all the time in the world,” Drake argued.

“You sit down low son,” the Soldier replied, “I’ve got this.”

Antoine looked on in horror as the Soldier drew a shotgun. He was stunned that he had such a large weapon on his person. He was concerned about how he managed to sneak it around without anybody noticing. Then he was worried as he raised it out of the window.

“Soldier! What are you doing?!” he exclaimed in a panic.

“If they aren’t shooting us, we’ll shoot first!” the Soldier declared.

“That’s stupid!” Drake exclaimed.

“Soldier, sit down!” Antoine grabbed the man’s thick arm, “Put that thing away!”

“We are making war decisions here!” the Soldier declared, as he tried to pull his arm away.

“We are in civilian territory!” Antoine pulled on him hard. Suddenly the car swerved and he realized that he was paying more attention to the armed Soldier than to his driving.

He straightened out the car. His heart was pounding in his ears, as if trying to escape his body. It might have been sending him a Morse code message, but he had no attention to focus on it. He kept his eyes on the road ahead, trying to ignore the panic building up in his body.

“Don’t kill us!” Drake exclaimed.

“Drake, make him stop!” Antoine ordered, “He has a shotgun!”

“Where the hell did you get a shotgun?” Drake asked.

“I brought it with us from the camper,” the Soldier answered.

“You can’t go firing that, Solly!” Drake pulled on the Soldier’s arm.

“We have to take down the-” suddenly he pointed the gun past Antoine’s face.

Antoine’s eyes widened as the barrel neared his nose. It was just beneath his eyes, obscuring his view of the dashboard. His eyes followed the gleaming length of the barrel to the car next to them.

He did not immediately recognize the silver car. From the side it looked entirely different than from behind. It was definitely the same vehicle however. The driver was driving right alongside them.

The passenger window slowly rolled down and the RED Spy in the driver’s seat leaned forward to look at them, “What the hell is wrong with you, amico? Are you trying to kill yourselves? You’re swerving all over the road! Pull over before you run the car into a propane tank!”

Antoine grabbed the barrel and pushed it aside. He immediately had to push the thick body of the man beside him aside, as he tried to lean over him to greet the other driver. He had a big stupid grin on his face, and seemed completely out of his mind as he ignored the need for vision for Antoine as the driver.

“Maurice! You crazy man! Where’ve you been?” Andrew waved to the other Spy.

“Holy shit! It’s Maurice?” Drake leaped from the backseat, trying to fit over the center console with the Soldier.

“You two sit down!” Antoine muscled them over.

“Watch the road!” Maurice shouted over the screech of tires.

Antoine turned his eyes to the road ahead. He could not believe this stupid situation. His ability to drive was being pulled into question over all of this. Now they had to get themselves to some place where they could actually stop safely.

“Andrew, Drake, sit down! You’re blocking the driver’s view!” Maurice called to them.

Apparently obedient to the Italian’s words, the two Americans took their seats. They said nothing as they settled in for the ride. The Soldier even set his gun down on the floor, though Antoine was not sure if the safety was on.

“Any minute now, you can pull over so we can talk to Maurice,” Drake insisted from the back seat.

Antoine rolled his eyes, “We’ll talk to Maurice when I damn well feel like pulling over and talking to Maurice.”


	39. Investigation of Two Spies

Maurizio could not believe this utter bullshit. The effort put into escaping him put the lives in that car at such a high risk that even he thought it was absolutely insane. What was the man trying to do? And with such a low skill level with a vehicle, he was surprised the car did not flip and kill the three people inside.

When they pulled over after the ramp off, the other Spy quickly got out of the car. Maurizio let out a huff of air as he watched the man begin the angry march towards him. Oh boy, this was going to be a fun one.

He got out of the car at a leisurely slow pace. He would take his time and enjoy what he had going for him. He closed the door then tucked his hands in his pockets. He strolled partway to meet the Spy.

“What are you doing here?” the other Spy demanded.

Maurizio hesitated, looking around him. At the car, Andrew and Drake were struggling to get out of the vehicle. It seemed that Scout was unbalanced on his feet, even with his crutches, and required quite a bit of help. They were not too far away to hear them talking, so he switched to speaking French.

“If you would check the message in your hat, you would have known by now,” he informed him, gesturing to the fedora left behind for the Frenchman to discover.

The Spy snatched the hat off his own head. He flipped it over, frowning down at the folded sheet of white laying inside. Maybe he was feeling dumb for not having read the note in the first place.

“Well?” Maurizio gestured to it again, hoping to pressure him into reading it.

The man used one hand to pick it out of the hat and unfold it. He glanced over the words, then glared at him. The two of them were silent for a long time after that. Maurizio was glad that they were not discussing any of this in English though, as the Soldier and Scout approached them.

“Hey, Maurizio!” Drake called, “How’s it going?”

“Everything is going well, Drake,” he offered a smile, despite the obvious blindness.

“Who is trailing us?” the Spy’s words were low, despite being spoken in French.

“You been working in California too now?” Drake asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“For a while,” Maurizio answered Drake. He turned back to the Spy and lowered his voice as he switched to French, “Technically? I am. Gray Mann sent me to trail you and whoever you encounter.”

“What? Why would Gray Mann send _you_ to track me?” the other Spy protested, “I’ve done nothing suspicious.”

“Funny seeing you here,” Drake said, before giving Andrew a nudge.

“It’s odd seeing you here,” Andrew seemed to be more on the nose. Given that he was not as stupid as people often saw him as, Maurizio was sure that the Soldier saw right through his friendly act.

“You had better not tell Gray Mann what you’ve seen here,” the other Spy growled in French.

Maurizio rolled his eyes, “If I was going to report it, would I have told you about it?”

“Perhaps you would have,” the other Spy shrugged, in a strangely aggressive manner, “I don’t know your level of intelligence.”

“Hey so um…” Drake interrupted, “You guys busy having a French talk? Cause like…we don’t know that stuff.”

The other Spy looked at Drake, then back to Maurizio, “I will not risk my son’s life on Gray’s lackey.”

“Hey, hey!” Maurizio exclaimed, putting up his hands defensively, “I am _not_ his lackey.”

“My point remains,” the other Spy argued.

“Either way, I had to come,” Maurizio insisted, “And I’m talking to you now because I don’t want anybody to get hurt. I don’t intend to go blabbing to Grey Mann about this.”

“You expect me to believe that?” the other Spy snarled at him.

“Yes,” he stated flatly, “If I can’t make my point any clearer, we are both at risk here. I need to tell Grey Mann something…but something that’s bland and not incriminating to anyone.”

“You want me to help you?” the other Spy’s brow furrowed, drawing down as he studied Maurizio’s face with disbelieving eyes.

“These guys are just ignoring us, aren’t they?” Drake asked the Soldier.

“No no,” Maurizio switched to English, “We’re just chewing each other out for reckless driving.”

The other Spy quickly rounded on him, “Reckless driving? I have more to say about-”

Maurizio quickly cut him off, “I have more to say about your temper. But there’ll be plenty of time to bicker indoors. I don’t much like the rising temperatures right now.”

He eyed the other Spy sideways. He was processing this, deciding what to do with the information given to him. Eventually, he nodded, then proceeded to his own vehicle.

“I’ll see you burning in hell!” the man called back to him.

“Yes, sure…see you later,” Maurizio waved at him. He gave the Soldier a shrug, before heading back to his own vehicle.

 

 

The two vehicles went separate ways. Maurizio went to a motel, a seedy little place where he was less likely to be noticed. It was the kind of place that a Spy like him would check into, ignoring the disgustingly poor job done on cleaning the room.

He waited in his room for the day. There was nothing else he wanted to do anyways. He turned on the television for background noise while he waited for the time to go by. He paced, laid down for a nap and even tapped his foot where he sat as he waited for time to pass.

Seven o’clock was the mark that he was waiting for. When it finally came around, he picked himself up and headed out to his car. He drove down to the run down diner he had indicated in his note, and parked where the Spy would see the vehicle. He made his way inside and put himself in the farthest corner at the back of the diner, refusing the waitress’ attempts to relocate him to a booth closer to her resting area. This was too important to worry about being kinder to a server.

He kept an eye on his watch. He dared not let the time escape him. He had to be sure if the other Spy was coming or not, before he decided to leave.

Much to his surprise, the Spy walked in at seven twenty five, five minutes before the time. He raised his hand, giving a small waved to call his attention. The Spy strode past the waitress, ignoring her attempts to greet him as he brought his grave attitude to sit across the table from Maurizio.

His attitude shifted as the waitress approached the table. He gestured to her, “A coffee please. Black.”

“Black coffee,” she took note of this on a notepad, “Anything else?”

“Same for me,” Maurizio nodded, not taking his eyes off of the other Spy.

This other man was keen and professional. It was well known to him and every other Spy that he was one of the oldest living Spies in the company. Not to mention having experience from real world war. The man was a dangerous creature to be trifled with, but no criminal to be feared.

“I’ll be back with your coffee, gentlemen,” she told them, before hurrying off.

Maurizio chose to open the conversation in French. It would be safer that way, given that no other person in this diner could possibly speak French, “You came down here to visit a friend, right?”

“That is none of your business,” the other Spy quipped in a nasty tone.

“No need for that,” Maurizio insisted, raising a defensive hand, “We’re on the same side on this.”

“Are we?” the other Spy eyed him suspiciously.

“I think we are,” Maurizio nodded insistently.

“It sounds like I am being interrogated,” the other Spy argued.

“Is it not an interrogation?” Maurizio held his hands out in a small shrug, “I need enough truth to make the farce look real.”

“You have enough information,” the other Spy gestured to him rudely, “You should go back to Toronto.”

“I didn’t come here to half ass the job,” Maurizio lowered his tone to something more scornful, “And I would not half ass it and risk Drake and Andrew.”

The other Spy shifted, leaning back in his bench seat. He studied Maurizio, probably trying to decide if he could be trusted. Neither of them really felt they could trust each other, but they had a common goal. Maurizio was going to play on that all the way through.

“You don’t trust me,” he stated, “That’s fine. We both have the same goal though. You understand that much, right?”

The other Spy nodded slowly. His eyes were burning daggers into Maurizio’s face now. He felt like he was the one under interrogation.

“If we work together on this, we can have a clean story that matches up,” he explained, “Because if _they_ interrogate you, mine needs to match yours.”

“You think they would interrogate us?” the other Spy inquired curiously.

“Just to be safe, I’m counting on it,” Maurizio shrugged at the question.

The waitress brought them their mugs. She placed them in front of each man, before pouring hot coffee from a clear pot. She paused to place stirring spoons on clean cream colored napkins.

“If you need anything, please let me know,” she offered.

Both of them forgot to use English and both spoke said the same thing in reply, “Thank you.”

She got a bit flushed around the cheeks. They glanced at each other, waiting as she left. They both turned to their coffees, resuming normal diner activity as if to clear the air of hostility.

When they finally set their mugs down, they made eye contact again. “So, what do you suggest is the next step?” Maurizio was the first to clear the air of the tense silence.

“First, I have a problem,” the other Spy replied.

“Go on,” Maurizio nodded.

“I came down here to secure the safety of another Spy,” he explained.

Maurizio felt a jolt, a realization and a sense of comradery. He could understand the feeling of making sure a friend was safe. If they were both Spies, of course the man would be wary of a Spy sent to extract information on them. He merely nodded though, not wanting to interrupt.

“However, that Spy has not returned to his relegated place of residence,” the other Spy explained.

“You don’t think he might have stayed at work late?” Maurizio offered, “Perhaps he made plans?”

“Not this Spy,” the other Spy shook his head.

“He would not stay to a routine would he?” he asked, after hearing that the man in question was indeed a Spy.

“Not likely,” the man answered, “But there is something to be said about habitual tendencies. From somebody who has been living here with him, I have reason to believe that this is abnormal for him.”

“If he is not at home, then you must find him elsewhere,” Maurizio insisted.

“What I’m saying is that I have to wait until he has returned to ensure that he is safe,” the other Spy explained hastily.

“What if he is not safe?” Maurizio asked.

That put a sour look on the man’s face. A mood of disgust and discontent spread across his face as he glared. His brow furrowed as he expressed his disgust with what Maurizio was inferring. No doubt being friends, the Spy did not want to hear ideas of harm being done to the man in question.

“You said it yourself,” Maurizio offered, gesturing to him with one hand, “You came here to ensure his safety. To personally come down here…must mean there is a threat worth checking in on, no?”

There were a few moments of silence. The man was considering this. His fingers played along the edge of his mug, while his eyes stayed locked on Maurizio. Little hints of movement in the muscles gave away that he was thinking, but not much else. His expression was taut and well trained not to give anything away to a potential enemy.

“Is there a potential threat worth coming down here for?” Maurizio inquired, hoping for a straight answer this time.

“If there were…” he glanced down at his coffee as he thought about this, “What would you do with that information? Would you hand it over to Grey Mann?”

Maurizio hesitated at that. Of course this will continuously come back to him being Grey Mann’s informant. That could not be forgotten for anything. Still, the man surely understood that Maurizio meant no harm to any other mercenary. In this case, he meant no harm to this particular Spy or his friend.

“That depends,” he shrugged, “Does it benefit us to inform Grey Mann of this potential threat?”

“I would like to find out,” the other Spy suddenly rose from the booth.

“Oh?” Maurizio followed his lead, standing up from the booth they were at.

“Let’s go to that studio,” the other Spy went on. Maurizio did not question what he meant, since it seemed he was supposed to simply know what studio he was talking about. “I’m sure we’ll find all of the information we need to bury this threat.”

“If that’s the case,” he gave him a smile, “Then let’s start digging.”

“Are you two finished?” the waitress suddenly approached them.

“Yes, madam,” the other Spy quickly turned and started towards the door, “As the inviter, you have this covered, right?”

Maurizio frowned as he realized that the Spy was walking right out the door. He was being left with their coffee bill. Damn.

He came to the cash register and waited for the woman to ring up his total. He tapped his foot impatiently, wanting her to get the picture. He had no time to stand around all day. He gave her a large sum of cash, telling her to keep the change. He rushed out of the door and hurried to his car.

The other Spy’s car pulled out of the parking lot. He was quick to start up his vehicle and follow. He stayed close behind, without breaking the safe boundaries. The other Spy did not seem to be too competent a driver if they went into higher speeds.

They took a few high ways before they reached their destination. The lights brightened the Hollywood sign that famously stood over this area. Those letters withstood the test of time, he thought. He remembered seeing the big screen as a youth and seeing pictures of those letters. Maybe some fifty years from today, they would still be standing there over the city.

The studios themselves were all closed and locked up. The place was guarded too, meaning that they could not simply park across the street and sneak in. He sipped past the other Spy, hoping he would follow as Maurizio found them a sneaky place to hide their vehicles.

When they stepped out, neither of them spoke. With his head feeling bare and naked, Maurizio pulled on a hat to cover. They walked in step together, following the streets back the way they came from the studios. The other Spy pulled back his sleeve to reveal a cloak and dagger watch. What a fantastic tool that Maurizio should have thought of. When he looked at his own wrist, he realized that he only had the regular invis watch.

Once he turned on his invis watch, he dashed across the street. He clambered up the side of a fence and dropped down to the other side. He rushed to find a hideaway corner with a lot of shadows to hide himself in. Once hidden, he let the invis watch drop its cloak.

He waited until he heard the telltale footsteps of the Spy’s Italian leather shoes. He hissed, calling his attention to the hiding spot. He glanced at his wrist, checking the cloak meter. It would not be full for another few minutes, at least.

“You should have brought a more efficient tool,” the other Spy whispered, “We are working around cameras.”

“I know, I know,” Maurizio protested, “I simply did not have a chance to change out what I had before leaving Toronto.”

The other Spy’s steps headed into a building and he seemed to disappear. Maurizio quickly followed, pulling down the wide brimmed hat he had brought along. He ducked in, letting the wide brim help to cover his face, just in case.

“I don’t think you have to worry,” the other Spy’s voice startled him. He quickly looked up to see the man standing at an opened door. He was gesturing inside, “I don’t think they’ll know anything more than that we’re Spies.”

Maurizio touched his face. That was right, they were both wearing balaclavas. As useful as it was to not be identified in general, it would probably be useful if the cameras did not see them. Oh well, if this came up with the company, he would say that he was following orders in a trivial manner.

“Let’s go,” the other Spy led the way inside.

The building he had chosen had several offices. There were a couple of doors with stars on them, but the other Spy chose one without a star. He seemed to know what he was looking for. Perhaps he had already done his homework on who was holding the information they needed.

With a quick bit of work with a lock pick, the other man had the door open. They slipped inside without any alarms even being set off. That was rather satisfactory, considering the high tech alarms that most places had nowadays.

The office had a desk and rows of filing cabinets. This place would be hell to search through. He already felt his shoulders sinking downwards as he thought of how horrible this was going to be.

“You check the H section,” the other Spy pulled off his jacket and set it on the chair, “I will check with F.”

Maurizio glanced over the letters. Each cabinet had its own letter, alphabetically ordered around the room. Whether they filed by first or last name was a troubling question. What was more troubling was that Maurizio did not know what name he was supposed to find.

“What exactly should I look for?” he asked, as he picked the lock on the H cabinet.

“Look for any files regarding a Spy,” the other Spy insisted.

“A needle in a haystack,” Maurizio rolled his eyes as the cabinet opened for him.

“Not quite,” the other Spy argued, “They have not had any Spies before this. This should be the first Spy in any of their records. For that, any mention of a real Spy should be the man we’re looking for.”

“Alright,” Maurizio shrugged, thumbing through the files. He was not sure if he should be taking them out and reading them, or if he expected the file to be labeled with the word Spy.

“Aha!” the other Spy exclaimed. Maurizio looked over to see a wide and delighted grin on his face. “I have it.”

“That was fast,” Maurizio commented in surprise. He pushed the cabinet shut.

“Let’s see,” the other Spy tapped a finger to his lip as he pondered, “Their filing system goes by familial names. If I’m correct…” He patted his person, before realizing that his jacket was not on him. He walked over to the chair and dug through his inner pockets.

“What are you looking for?” Maurizio inquired, tucking his hands into his pant pockets.

The other Spy did not reply at first. He was focused on searching his pockets. He pulled out some paper and unfolded it, looking over hand written notes. “Xavier Hackley,” he read aloud, “Look for the name Hackley. Spelled H A C K-”

Maurizio was already looking again, searching through the files for the name he was spelling. It was not hard to find. Hackley, Xavier looked like the newest file in the cabinet.

“Found it!” his words interrupted the other Spy’s spelling.

“Perfect,” the man gestured him closer, “Let’s have a read.”

He brought the file to the desk and they opened it up. They pushed the files around, scanning over each piece for important details and searching for information. Nothing seemed to be relevant. In fact, the only thing relating to the man being a safety hazard was a hand written memo, but it did not say that he was a danger but that he was a hero. He had saved somebody from a burning trailer, pulling them out and bringing them to safety.

“This doesn’t look helpful,” Maurizio stated, shaking his head.

The other Spy picked up the hand written memo. He was reading it twice then thrice. He read it again and again, refusing to put it down. One eye twitched and his eyebrows furrowed down in anger. His grip tightened on the paper, while his arm began to shake.

“Is…everything alright?” Maurizio inquired hesitantly.

The other Spy suddenly put the paper down in the file, “No.” He closed the file and piled the other one on top of it.

Maurizio let out a breath, “What do we do with this?” Its information was useless to them for what they required.

Finally, the other Spy raised his head. Their eyes met, before he looked back down at the paper. “Burn it.”

Maurizio blinked in confusion, “Pardon me?”

“We need to burn this,” the other Spy explained.

“Um…” Maurizio furrowed his brow in concern.

“None of this is useful to us,” the other Spy put on an aloof attitude, “Burn everything in them. We’ll be rid of it.”

“Something tells me we won’t be rid of this…” Maurizio picked up a paper from the file, “Sniper? A…gentleman who lives in a camper?” He paused, blinking at the paper. “Since when has a Sniper who lives in a camper ever been called a gentleman?”

“Since when have mercenaries from bases like Haunted Hills been permitted to enter civilian jobs?” the other Spy inquired.

Maurizio shrugged, “Oversight? Wait…” he looked at the other Spy when he realized what he said. He had heard of the base Haunted Hills. It was currently empty and devoid of life, famously reduced to nothing by its last standing survivor.

“The RED Sniper from Haunted Hills was permitted to move to a civilian location, to work a civilian job, with civilians,” the other Spy explained, “That’s more than oversight.”

Maurizio’s lips tightened and he nodded, “I understand your concern.”

“Then you understand why I have to find him?” the other Spy inquired.

“Yes,” Maurizio nodded, “But we’re not going to find him standing in here. We need to go.”

That was when they heard footsteps rushing towards the office. They shared a look, then realization hit Maurizio. He had not noticed it before, but there was a small electronic box on a wall. It had a small red light blinking. He could not identify it with certainty, but he had a suspicion that it was some form of security.

“I think we need to get out of here,” the other Spy said.

“I’m with you on that,” Maurizio agreed, darting towards the door.

“Invis watch!” the other Spy exclaimed.

“Right,” he clicked his watch, just as the Spy also clicked his.

Maurizio had to move fast. He had limited time to handle this. With his on a timer, he would be required to get someplace safe to decloak. Meanwhile, the other Spy could just stop and wait for his meter to go up, while still fully cloaked.

He rushed past a couple of security officers who were rushing in. He did not stop there, rushing until he managed to find a shadowy area to hide. He waited a decent time for the other Spy to come out. With the security guards momentarily distracted, he rushed to the fence and climbed over it. His cloak dropped, meaning that he had to keep running.

He did not stop running, even as his lungs wanted to burn out on him. He would kill for a cigarette later, but for now, he needed to get to his car and go. He did not even stop to see if the other Spy got to his car safely. He got into his car and pulled out of the parking area. He dared not look back as he drove away.


	40. Apartment Reunion

Antoine took his escape slow and steady. The moment the other Spy went dashing out the door, he grabbed up the files on the desk. He would not leave behind evidence of their existence after this. He would remove the paper trail of Hugh’s existence here. There was not much he could do about other forms of evidence, but the contracts in these were priceless.

He would burn the contracts. Then Mann Co would be forced to take on both mercenaries. Antoine could get Hugh away from this place and back to Toronto. Then the crazy Sniper could be taken to where crazies belonged, with other crazies.

He did not deserve an insane asylum. Nay, after reading his past, Antoine was certain that this Sniper deserved no asylum. Calling him crazy was an insult to the persons with actual crazy problems. This man was just immoral on all levels, and no doubt had done something to Hugh already.

With this in mind, he took both files knowing that he would do something with it. He turned on his cloak and dagger and waited for the security guards. As he was waiting, he realized that he could have switched the Sniper’s file with what he had dug up. Granted, whoever handled these files probably rarely saw each individual one. Planting information would need to be more within plain sight than that.

The security guards came in and held flashlights up at eye level. With light flickering around the room, Antoine dared not to move. One little movement could offset a shadow or change how the light bent around him. He would not give himself away while he was cornered like this.

Thankfully, they gave up their search in the office rather quickly, opting to chase whatever goose had run out the door. When they opened the door, he followed after them quickly. He was relieved to slip by them as they paused to lock the door behind them. One mentioned to the other that somebody might have broken in because of forgetting their keys, while the other laughed about breaking in still being an illegal break in.

Antoine ignored them, following the hallway on quiet feet. The darkness was not very good to him, but soon a light was shining down past him. He hurried his steps and stopped by the door, waiting to let the two men step outside first. They were busily chatting, too entertained with the idea that some director had come back and forgot his key to notice an invisible man by the wall trying to suck his belly in.

The moment the door opened, he slipped past them. He did not stop, daring not to bring attention to himself. And since that was of high concern, he kept his footsteps quiet, daring not to give away his position. Still, whenever flashlights flickered by him, he just kept moving. He was out in the open now, so it would be easier to fool them into thinking it was just their imagination.

This time he did not got the route over the fence. No doubt his hat connoisseur companion had simply climbed and jumped the fence again. He expected nothing less of a man lacking experience. He simply hoped that his new route would not bring him any trouble.

 

*********************************************************************

 

The annoying _ka-thunk ka-thunk_ of a ball being bounced off of a wall was the only sound that interrupted the hum drum of the den. Sniper was lounging on the couch, with his hat pulled low. Scout had slumped with his back against the side of a chair as he bounced his ball against a wall nearby.

Again, the sound rattled at the ear drums. It just kept and going and going. It became poignant from how quiet it was in the room.

The clock was much quieter than the ball. It was an unwelcome ticking sound though, so Andrew was glad for some other sound. Still, he relied on the clock for something. When he looked at it, he could see that it was already half past ten at night.

Antoine left several hours ago, intending to be back soon. Andrew was sure he was off to meet with Maurizio for something, but he was not sure what for. Probably to yell at him for the earlier altercation, and to talk about whatever they had been discussing in French.

Andrew did not want to butt in on their business. At this point, he would sooner bury his head in the sand, than ruin another situation with his less than witty words. He knew he was not so bright with words. Things were only getting harder for him, and he could not put his thumb on why. Sometimes talking was just as easy as breathing, and then some days, it became difficult to figure out how to tell Scout to stop being annoying. Shouting words never worked, that just made Scout shout back at him.

Things were not quite right in Andrew’s life. He could rationalize that the world had changed too much. Maybe it was life without a purpose. Fighting had been his purpose and he had been glad to do it for a long time.

Underneath all of those things, something felt remarkably strange. It was terrifying and depressing. With Scout already holding his own burdens, he could not unload these terrible thoughts on the boy. He kept it all quietly to himself.

His only hope was that when he finally saw Hugh, and they hugged, things would feel right again. Maybe everything could be okay. Maybe Hugh would know just what to do when they had a chance to sit down and talk.

That usually helped, talking things out. He could not talk to Scout or Sniper like he could talk to Hugh. Hugh’s relationship with him was special in that way. Nobody could replace him.

The door suddenly opened and he flung himself to his feet. His heart was pounding in his chest and he was already smiling. He was disappointed to see that it was just the other Spy again. Having returned from his meeting, the man looked thoroughly tired.

“Oh,” the word escaped his lips.

“I return with good news,” the Spy patted his jacket, probably hiding something beneath the lapels in some secretive pocket.

“What’s that?” Scout asked.

“We’ll be bringing Hugh away from this wretched place in due time,” the Spy got a curl of a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“I thought that was what we were doing,” Andrew frowned.

The Spy frowned back at him, “I have what’ll erase him from this place.”

“Oh…” Andrew blinked at him, “Good.”

 

*********************************************************************

 

The long trek towards home was exhausting. It was well worth it though. Knowing that the Sniper was disabled and without assistance, he was free. He could get to his apartment knowing that the Sniper would not be around to bother him. If he died, then the world would be short of one more blood thirsty, power hungry killer. You’re welcome world.

He smiled to himself in self-satisfaction at that. He walked with his chest puffed up and his posture a little straighter. He was still tilted and limping, but he would be damned if he did not take a little pride in having walked away from the altercation. The smile faded though, as he realized his choices. He could go back and change things still. If he turned around and went back, there was a chance that he could do what he was trained to do.

His hand touched the little sheath in his jacket sleeve. It was empty, save for a few bent cigarettes. It usually held one of his trustiest knives, a sneaky weapon that nobody could detect. Well, humans could not detect it, but metal detectors could. He had taken it upon himself to give up his weapons when he found out that there was a good chance of getting scanned for unsafe weapons. On occasions, he thought he might have been secretly scanned too.

Those thoughts aside, he came to the conclusion that there was no point in turning back now. There was no weapon at his disposal to kill with. At least, not a proper weapon to kill _that_ Sniper. After last night, the man deserved a much better death than a broken neck and some bruises from the stairs.

Those were thoughts for another time though. That was a plan to formulate later. He was on a mission to get home and get his balaclava on his head. He would be damned if he got seen by yet another stranger without a mask on.

If there was an easier way to deal with the Sniper, Hugh would do it. For now, he would just have to resign himself to what he knew he could do. What he could do right now is get back to the apartment and clean up.

As he approached the building, he was too tired to take note of much. There was no Sniper though. That was a good thing. That thought stayed with him as he headed to the elevator. There was no Sniper there either, which made him smile on his solo ride up to his floor.

The overwhelming relief of being at his place of residence was nice. The handle was familiar, with none of his own handprints or fingermarks on it. The door was clean and untouched by filthy hands. At least, it should have been. He frowned when he noticed a big dirty handprint on it. It was a messy thing, but it was more than likely from somebody passing by who leaned on his door. Nobody around here had respect for other peoples’ spaces or things.

He tried to unlock the handle, but found that it had already been unlocked. Dread dropped his blood to his feet. His face felt light and his hand went to where a pistol used to be. There was no pistol in his pocket so he would just have to improvise.

There was a voice. It was muffled through the door, but it was coming closer. His heart began to race as he stepped back, debating whether to flee or stay and fight. Whoever broke in might be armed, but there was a small chance that it was Glenn.

The door opened and he was surprised to see Antoine. He looked very formal in his clean red uniform, something that strikingly contrasted his own now-tattered blue one. He even wore a fedora atop his head.

“Were you just in a battle?” Antoine asked with wide blinking eyes.

“Hugh!” the RED Spy was shoved aside as a familiar figure came bouldering to the door.

Andrew did not hesitate or assess the situation. He did not take a moment to figure things out. He did not even act shyly about this, taking it as awkward that they had been apart for so long. No, the man ran to Hugh and threw his thick arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug that was inescapable.

Hugh decided that this was a good thing. It was good that he could not escape. It was good that struggling was useless. He did not want to leave that hug for anything. In fact, he felt his knees get weak and his body want to collapse against him, resting arms around his neck and forehead against his neck and shoulder.

For a long while, nobody spoke a word. Hugh kept his eyes closed, trying to pretend that Antoine was not there. He needed to just be alone with Andrew, but he could not fully forget that the other Spy was still there. In fact, the man made his presence very much known when he cleared his throat.

Hugh glared at him. He did not come back to the apartment to be harassed about his love. He noticed that Antoine was gesturing to his face. Then he noticed that Sniper was walking to the door.

“Do you even comb your hair, mate?” Glenn teased with a lighthearted chuckle, “You look like you had a tussle.”

Hugh stiffened, staring Glenn in the eye. He had not even had a chance to look at his hair, but then again, it was the last thing on his mind. After everything he had been through, he just wanted to be done with thinking about those little details.

Andrew finally let go of the hug, loosening his arms slowly before a hand took Hugh’s hand. He was not ready to let go of that hug yet, but it was time to step inside the apartment. It was not safe to be lurking in the halls where somebody could stumble upon the unmasked Spy.

He stepped inside with the Soldier and glanced over his shoulder to make sure the door was being closed. He was not really sure why he had to check. Something inside of him really just wanted the door to be shut and locked tight.

“Where’ve you been?” Glenn stepped closer to him, studied his apparent mess, “You didn’t even show up yesterday.”

“Surely you intended to come back after work yesterday?” Antoine inquired, stepping towards the couch to be in the range of the couch. That was when Hugh noticed the Scout sitting with his back against the couch, looking rather dejected, tired and bored. Moreover he seemed very out of place, like he did not belong here, but he was stuck nevertheless.

“After work?” Hugh needed a minute to collect his thoughts about the previous day without running over the events of this day. He was in no mood to go over what he had experienced and what his morning had been like. “Last night there was a party with coworkers,” he looked to Glenn as he spoke, “You haven’t been showing up, so of course you didn’t get invited to it.”

Glenn shrugged at that, “Nobody missed me.”

Hugh noticed Antoine’s reaction to that from his peripheral vision. It was very slight in change, but it was not subtle. There was a tightening to the lips, a shifting of the hips, and a slight intake of breath. The slight curl of the lip pushing up on one cheek expressed his disgust at the Sniper, for one reason or another.

He kept what he had seen to himself, “That is where I went after work yesterday.”

“And overnight?” Glenn pressed, “You look like you slept in a gutter.”

“I…” Hugh looked at the people in his apartment. Not all of them could see, but all of them could hear. All of them could at least tell that he was in a bad disposition. If he told even half of the truth here and now, they would know more than he wanted them to. They would know more than he was ready to talk about.

“Enough chittering!” Andrew suddenly announced.

His loud and booming voice took Hugh off guard. It was almost unwelcome and made him feel uneasy. It was surprising yet slightly relieving, since it took away the attention that was going into his whereabouts the night before. He could let them change the setting, to shift the tone and put attention elsewhere.

Antoine glanced at the clock, “It is getting later than I would like. I was expecting to be on the road last night.”

“Yea, me too,” Glenn nodded, but he gave the RED Spy a wary glance.

Hugh worried for a moment about the two. They were short of being friends, and that was fine. He did not care about their relationship, since they had none. What he truly worried about was the implications of these little hints of aggression. Wherever they were coming from was the thing that Hugh needed to know about.

“Why did you come?” he turned to Antoine, a bit confused that he was even in California.

“I came to ascertain your-” he gave a quick glance at Glenn, then at Andrew.

He seemed wary about his choice of words. Perhaps it was something that was supposed to be hush hush, but Hugh had an inkling of a doubt that led him to believe that it had something to do with his aggression towards the Sniper.

Antoine cleared his throat, “Well, after all is said and done, you should leave California.”

“Leave California?” the notion had not come to him before, considering his contract with the studio.

“Yes,” Antoine pulled a file out, waving it through the air, as if it held all of the answers, “After some review, your contract is being terminated early to move you back to Toronto.”

“Hey!” Glenn snapped, rounding on Antoine, “He ain’t goin- You’re not going to Toronto!” He looked back and forth between each Spy with frustration etching the lines of his face.

“Where is Toronto?” Andrew whispered to Hugh carefully.

Antoine switched to French, “After my research, I’ve found that the Sniper from Haunted Hills should never have been assigned a civilian job. After a certain call, I was sure he had broken into your apartment. I assumed you were in danger.”

“It’s in Canada,” Hugh whispered back.

“We can’t go to Canada!” Andrew announced with disbelief.

Hugh used French to reply to Antoine, “If I were in danger, then why didn’t you call me?”

“Um…” Hugh was confused at Andrew’s strong opinion of this, “Why not?”

“Scout doesn’t have a passport!” was his loud declaration of an explanation.

Hugh looked over to the Scout. The younger mercenary just raised a hand, briefly acknowledging that he was being brought into the conversation. Strangely he was quiet though. He did not remember Scout being so quiet and…almost depressed.

“If I had called you, it could have still been the Sniper,” Antoine explained, still going on in French, “And I would not have reached you.

“He’s leaving Mann Co and going with us,” Glenn put in sternly. He threw a thumb at Andrew, then gestured to the Scout.

“He is under contract,” the RED Spy insisted, “And when Grey Mann makes a contract, he makes you stick to it or be hunted like a dog.”

“Uh…just a suggestion…a little side note here,” the Scout interjected, “But uh…aren’t we all already being hunted like dogs?”

“Scout is right,” Andrew nodded.

Hugh sighed, “As right as he may be, that is not the only surviving factor.”

They were interrupted by a loud banging on the door, “OPEN UP!”


	41. Breakdown

“Who could that be?” Andrew asked, with confusion. More pounding on the door followed his inquiry.

Hugh frowned as he listened to the voices on the other side of the door. He was not close to the door, so he was vaguely gauging whose voices they might be. He was not sure what it was, and he did not try to hard at it either. Right now, he was trying to focus on the man he was holding.

“Open the damn door!” the man on the other side of the door kept banging on it, relentlessly yelling for attention.

Andrew pulled back from the hug. Even so, a hand took Hugh’s and squeezed it. He held on tightly, glad to have the comfort of that thick hand holding his own.

“I’ve got this,” Glenn got to his feet and walked over to the door.

Hugh looked from Glenn to Antoine. There was a moment when Antoine’s lips tightened. He was eyeing the Sniper with wariness and slight aggression. There was something like irritation in his eyes too.

Before Hugh could say anything, his lips just starting to part, Andrew’s hand pulled on him, taking him away from the scene. He turned as he was led to the hallway. Not much else was said, but perhaps that was because he had missed something previously a part of the dialogue.

He did not have a chance to find out more as he followed Andrew to his room. The Soldier paused to close and lock the door before turning to him. Hugh did not even hesitate to fall back into the embrace. The other man’s arms wrapped around him and then there was silence. That silence was soon broken by the angry shouts and frustrating noise being made by whoever was at the door.

For right now, he could just focus on Andrew. He could hold him tightly and try to bury his face in his shirt. He could try to wash himself in the smell of this man, removing all memories of the awful past few years. If anybody could take all of that pain and suffering away, it was Andrew. Right here in his embrace, Hugh felt warm and safe, with no threat to his mind, sanity or emotional stability.

Even so, he found himself feeling weak. He leaned against the other man, as his knees trembled. His arms shook and a shiver ran through his body. The exhaustion of the past years just racked his body with a terrible shake, like a cold chill that filled his entire being.

He let a tear fall, dripping slowly down his face. It was difficult to let it go, marking its way down his face. If he kept like this, eventually his eyes would hold the horrible evidence of a man who shed tears. In front of Andrew, he did not really mind, but with others he was not sure he could bear them knowing that was unstable.

His own arms tightened around him. He wanted to beg to be held. He wanted to beg for it like he was a dying man pleading to a god for mercy. Nothing could pull him away from this man. Not even death itself could bring its fingers around his throat and tear him away from his love again.

Work be damned. Subtlety be damned. His life as a Spy be damned. He needed his life to be warmed and comforted by Andrew. He needed to be a helpless person…a child of sort, if only for a moment.

“There’s somebody else, isn’t there?” Andrew’s words cut through the silence, split his thoughts in twain and made a sudden jolt leap through his body.

Horror filled him, a dread that dropped his whole body’s temperature. He pulled back from the hug, wanting to look the other man in the face. His body felt weak and he wanted to fall forward onto him again. The comfort was now a necessity, something he needed more than water.

He looked at Andrew’s face to find a forlorn expression. He looked like he was the one who was about to shed a tear. When he looked back at Hugh, he became surprised at seeing his face. Perhaps it was the tear that did it, seeing the water that fled from his eye and marked its territory in a streak along his bony cheek.

“What?” Hugh choked on the word, unprepared to speak after his body had prepared to cry.

Andrew’s eyes dropped to the floor at their feet. He looked both ashamed and said. There was something close to pain written in his face. Hugh almost reached out to touch his visage, to pull his gaze back up to his own. They could talk this out and assure each other. He could be a comfort to Andrew as much as he was a comfort to Hugh.

“I can smell it on you,” Andrew’s voice was hollow as he spoke.

Hugh hesitated, glancing down at his clothes. They had not been washed since what happened. He had not bathed since everything went down. He had been running and running. He had yet to eat food or brush his teeth. He had not yet had a chance to wash his face and stare disgustedly at the unkempt features staring back at him. He did not even have a chance to drink some water, after what was no doubt a dehydrating experience.

He felt his body tense without his willing it. He was unable to relax for the moment, his entire frame both holding itself up and trying not to unleash a torrent of emotions upon Andrew. The Soldier did not know what happened. The Soldier did not know what this was about. It was not his fault.

Still, that the man would remind him of what happened and make him feel guilty for it made him want to scream. He held his breath, afraid that his voice might act of its own accord. He dared not make a peep, lest he said the wrong thing, or hurt Andrew. He could deal with saying wrong things, but he could never forgive himself if he hurt his Andrew.

“I’m not mad,” Andrew finally looked up at him, trying to meet his eyes. They were gleaming, darting between each of Hugh’s eyes in a search for meaning behind his own expression. “I’m just…disappointed.”

Something came loose inside of Hugh and he let out a guttural scream of anguish. It hurt to make this noise, just as it hurt to feel everything behind it. His arms went up, fingers curling in as he pressed his palms to his eyes. His back arched, leaning his weight backwards as he tried to fight the torrent of emotion struggling to take hold of his body and make him weep. It was not a position he could sustain though, and he fell to his knees.

The Soldier rushed to his side, worried about what was happening. His hands did not come in time as Hugh dropped onto his side. At this point, he let go, releasing any attempt to hold back. His body shook, shivering against the cold feeling of loneliness, terror and pain. The loss of autonomy was probably the worst, as his mind went back to the morning, waking up on the Sniper’s couch after being used like a toy.

He curled up, wanting to just lay there and die. There was nothing left to fix this. The Sniper won. He got what he wanted and now Hugh had no pride left in him. A man could not stand upright if he had no pride, so what was there left to stay here for? Live on and continue fighting the damned Sniper from Haunted Hills.

A hand cupped the back of his hair, and another wrapped around under his upper back, lifting him off of the ground. He peeled open his eyes, peering through bleary tears at Andrew’s face. He blinked a few times, forcing warm tears to fall away before he could see Andrew’s worried expression.

“What’s wrong?” the door slammed open and Glenn stepped inside. Hugh could barely see him, but he could hear him from the door.

“It’s fine,” Andrew looked over his shoulder, “He just needs water. He’s dehydrated and exhausted.”

“Think he needs a Medic?” Glenn inquired.

Andrew paused, looking back down at Hugh’s face, “Do you need a Medic.”

The words almost stuck in his throat. He fought back the lump and forced himself to speak, “No.”

“I’ll get the water, mate,” Glenn said, closing the door as he left.

Andrew turned his full attention back to Hugh. His arms moved and shifted him, pulling him into his lap. He cradled him with care, before lifting him to the bed.

How silly it felt to be lifted like this. They were not playing or anything, Hugh was just being pathetic. His face was dripping in tears and he was weak as a child, unable to stand up like a man with pride under his chin.

“What happened to you, Hugh?” Andrew asked softly.

He opened his mouth. He wanted to tell him. He had to tell him the truth somehow. How do you tell somebody something like this? This was not a normal situation. This was not something that happened to men.

“You are not injured?” Andrew inquired a touch worriedly, “You fell pretty hard.” He reached down to gently squeeze each of Hugh’s knees, as if to be sure they did not bear obvious injuries.

“No,” Hugh shook his head, barely managing the word.

Andrew took Hugh’s hand, intertwining their fingers. He was silent for a long time, just looking Hugh over. Perhaps there was a little disbelief in this whole situation.

“I missed you,” Andrew finally met his eyes.

It struck Hugh that this man was suffering mental illness. He had been suffering for so long. Until Hugh took him to a special Medic, he had seen no decent treatments for it. No doubt he was no longer being treated for anything, and without somebody to talk to, he was alone in his struggle.

“You’ve been fighting hard,” Hugh reached up with his free hand to gently touch his face. He pushed back the hair that had gotten much too long.

“I can only fight,” Andrew replied simply.

Hugh offered him a small smile, “I’m proud of you. You’ve made it here.”

“I’m still alive,” Andrew nodded slowly.

“And you’ve been the caregiver to the Scout,” Hugh added. He marveled at how much patience must be in the man’s body to be able to handle the Scout for so long without going at his throat out of anger.

“He’s a good kid,” Andrew said softly, ignoring the fact that Drake was well beyond his seventies, perhaps in his eighties by now.

“You’ve won your battles,” Hugh offered him another smile.

“I am always on the winning team,” Andrew puffed his chest out a bit proudly.

Hugh felt more tears and more anguish at that. Andrew at least had a little pride to hold himself up. He could even be proud in the face of what a wreck he had become, if only just for being a help to somebody else.

“I’ve lost my war,” Hugh whined, mostly to himself.

“You’ve not yet lost the war,” Andrew patted the hand he was holding, “You’re still here.”

“No,” Hugh shook his head, “I’m alive and breathing. But I’ve long since lost.”

“What do you mean?” Andrew blinked at him, “Can we stop using the metaphor? I am getting a headache.”

Hugh sighed, “The analogy is our struggles. Yours…and mine…”

He paused to lick his lips. They were terribly dry and a little cracked. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to put his thoughts together. It was hard to just stick everything together with Andrew staring at his face like this. He was just lying there pathetically, tears streaking down his face, while he made an absolute fool of himself.

“Almost a year ago, I met a Sniper,” he explained.

“That’s the…other man?” Andrew inquired with worry and hope intermingling in his voice.

Hugh sighed, “I knew he was dangerous when I saw him. I kept my distance. I stayed away from him. I avoided him…I…I moved to California.”

He closed his eyes and swallowed. It hurt to talk anymore because of the lump in his throat. Closing his eyes felt like a mistake as his body wanted him to sleep. After the night before being a bust in regards to decent rest, he wanted to sleep it off.

“He followed me here,” he went on anyways, “He works in the same studio with the same people. They…they like him. He’s a nice guy, they say. He’s not all that bad, they say. They don’t like me like they like him. They would sweep me under the bus if given a chance, but he gets…more chances because of the one time…one time when he saved me from dying in a fire.”

He raised his free hand to rub his face. He tried to get rid of the tears. It was no use, as they were quickly replaced by new tears. They already had a new trail to traverse too, taking a path down the sides of his head towards his ears.

“I avoided him then too,” he went on, his voice clearer and stronger, “And I-” He cut off as the door opened. Glenn stepped in holding a glass of water.

Andrew bounded to his feet without a word. He darted to the door and carefully took the glass. He spoke low as he asked the Sniper to leave the room. Glenn was hesitant and immediately started to argue. When Andrew promised to let Glenn in after their conversation was over, Glenn nodded and left.

Andrew turned and brought the water back to the bed. He knelt beside it as he carefully tried to tilt the water to his lips himself. Hugh was not known for good bedside manners, and he could easily sit up, so he protested. He took the glass from him and sat up to drink it. Once the glass was empty, Andrew set it aside and let Hugh lay back down on the bed.

He closed his eyes again, “Yesterday was a party with coworkers. I was invited to go by the one person who…maybe could be counted as an acquaintance?”

He opened an eye to see Andrew nodding. He was listening intently as he tried to understand what Hugh was explaining to him. No doubt there was curiosity there. Hugh had not a doubt in his mind that Andrew doubted him.

Why would he not doubt him? Everybody else doubted him. The crew at work did not trust him. Even the Engineer who had seen him get along well with civilians did not trust him to talk to a new friend. He was sure that the Director might not even trust him at all.

There was no reason for him to think that anybody would ever trust him again. He was a Spy. That was supposed to be a given in his job, an obstacle to deal with. Still, having to tell the truth to somebody made trust all the more important.

“He didn’t tell me the Sniper would be there,” he explained, “Told me I wouldn’t have come if I knew that the Sniper would be there.”

“You could have left,” Andrew offered.

“I could have,” Hugh sighed, “But I didn’t. I chose to stay…try to be nice…try to be social. I tried.”

“You tried,” Andrew nodded.

“We came separately in two trucks,” he went on, “So when we left…we had two drivers. Heavy drove the truck I came in. But…I…I ended up in his camper.”

“How?” Andrew pressed. The lines of his face shifted as he pondered the situation as it must have happened for Hugh.

“I was drunk,” Hugh explained, “Likely drugged.”

He sighed and ran his hands over his face. It somehow did not even surprise him when he added the factors together. The Medic had drank the most out of everybody. He had taken the opportunity to stay close to the drinks as they were handed over by the barkeep. The man no doubt had access to drugs. He also seemed to have a friendship with the Sniper, going as far back as at least the time they fetched Hugh from the flames of his own burning trailer. He had even been the one who got upset when Hugh did not want the Sniper to visit him in his room at the hospital.

It had been the Medic all along. He was the one close to the drinks with the capability of spiking them with something nobody would notice. He was also linked to the Sniper in some way. What put the final pin into place was how he had guided Hugh right to the camper truck and away from the truck he came in.

That morning, the Sniper had been on the phone with somebody. He would have bet a lot of money on the chances of the other line being the Medic. No doubt the man was an assistant in all of this. Perhaps not the perpetrator of violence, but a hand in it nonetheless.

“I was drugged,” Hugh decided to put it all together as it was, “I had no wits about me. I was in his cab, and he was supposed to drive me here. I woke up in his camper this morning.”

“What happened?” Andrew had the most clueless look on his face.

Hugh covered his eyes. He did not want to look at that face. He did not want to have to meet somebody’s gaze while explaining this.

“I had been stripped and left…like…just…” he could not finish it, barely able to make his voice keep working through this, “I grabbed what I could find and put it on. I forgot my balaclava though. I almost got away…almost.” He rubbed his eyes, feeling both tired and itchy. “He killed a man…think he was a boy…I think he killed a young man that worked down at the bakery before this. I can’t prove it, but I know he did. And he followed me. He chased me. He knew my tricks and nearly trapped me. I got to the stairs and he came after me. He fell- We fell…and he could not get up.”

He moved his arm out of the way, feeling rather good after saying that. The Sniper could not get up and it was a good feeling. He would have smiled if not for the regret that he had no weapon on hand with which to finish the man off.

“You didn’t kill him?” Andrew blinked at him, “Or would that have drawn too much attention?”

Hugh looked at him, and it was his turn to feel curious and bewildered. He blinked at him at first, eyebrows raising. That was the first time anybody had agreed with him on his thoughts in a long time. That was the first time somebody had said the very thing he was feeling about the Sniper.

“I had no weapon on hand,” Hugh answered.

“I would have killed him with my bare hands!” Andrew raised his voice, lifting his hands to demonstrate what a neck snap would look like, “HUTTAH!”

Hugh smiled, feeling genuine warmth and happiness building in his chest as he watched the Soldier gleefully talk about how he would murder the Sniper. “It’s better this way,” he told him, “I don’t want to be here anyways. He can keep this job. I want to be with you, wherever you are.”

Andrew smiled at him, then scooped him up into a hug. He curled up, partially reciprocating the hug. It seemed to be mostly protective and comforting, squishing Hugh’s body against Andrew’s chest.

He closed his eyes and sighed. Let this be where he lives the rest of his life. Let this be where he dies. In the comfort of his love’s arms, he needed this more than anything in the world. Andrew was the medicine he needed to recover from his experiences.


	42. The Blockade of the Door

Once the Soldier took Hugh to the room, Glenn opened the door. He was ready for anything, putting on the most feral snarl he could adorn. He was easily met by an enraged man, but that man’s anger was not enough to cover the surprise at coming face to face with Glenn’s expression.

“You? What are you doing here?” the Medic exclaimed in disbelief.

Glenn took one look at the bunch with a frown. The Medic, the Engineer and a nameless staffmember from work had all come. What they were doing here was beyond him, but it felt like it should be illegal. It should be against the rules or something.

“The hell are you mongrels doing here?” Glenn growled.

“We’re here for the Spy! Bring out that cowardly snake now!” the Medic raised his voice.

The Engineer reached out to try and calm the Medic, “Take it easy, son. No need to be hostile.

“Don’t tell me what to and not to do!” the Medic yanked his arm away.

“You lot shouldn’t be here,” Glenn growled, “How about you leave and we won’t make a fuss about it.”

“How about you bring out that Spy before I strangle you?” the Medic growled back at him.

“Whoa! Whoa!” the nameless crew member pulled back on the Medic, “That’s enough. We aren’t supposed to make any threats of violence.”

“Just tell Spy we need to speak with him,” the Engineer asked, with exasperation in his tone.

“No,” Glenn said simply.

“No?” the Medic’s eyes burned with a fury of the sun.

“You’d better send him out here so we can talk,” the Engineer warned sternly.

“You’re out of luck, mate,” Glenn growled, folding his arms over his chest.

“I’m going to kill that Spy!” the Medic roared.

Suddenly, the Medic grabbed the door and shoved it wide open. He was about to charge through when another body put itself next to Glenn to block the doorway with him. The two of them both hand their arms folded over their chests, he could tell from the way their elbows bumped against each other. A brief glance showed him that it was the RED Spy standing next to him.

“You wanted a Spy?” the Frenchman’s voice was calm, almost soothing in a sense. He sounded like a slick man who knew how to con any brilliant person out of his wits.

“Who the hell are you?” the Medic gave the Spy an incredulous once over.

“I’m not on authority to tell you,” the Spy sounded like he was enjoying the sudden game. Glenn knew these men personally, which meant that they knew him. The Spy on the other hand probably had information on all of them, and could name them with ease, while none of them even knew this Spy existed. “What I can tell you is that you will not be able to meet with the other Spy at this time.”

“I’m here on behalf of the studio,” the nameless crewmember stepped forward to pull out a signed letter, “He’s in a lot of trouble with the studio for breaking contract and acting out violently.”

From the corner of his eye, Glenn could see the man’s nostrils flare. What did that mean? He was not good at reading peoples’ faces, not like Spies were. This was an instance where it would have been very useful, because he was not sure what that nostril flare was supposed to mean in regards to seeing that letter and hearing this news.

“I can’t help you,” the Spy gestured with both hands dismissively, “I am here on behalf of Mann Co.” Those words were spoken with such dignity that they might as well hold greater strength in power than the crewmember’s claim to representing the studio. “I’m afraid the Spy will no longer be in your employ,” he explained.

“He can’t break contract,” the nameless and stubborn staff member shook a finger at the Spy.

A slight smirk broke the Spy’s face. Glenn knew what that one meant. It was something of self-satisfaction and self-assurance. It was something he had seen time and again on the faces of men who were capable of turning around a situation, even when you told them it was impossible. Whoever this crewmember was, they had signed on to argue with the wrong Spy.

“You have it wrong,” the Spy shrugged, “Mann Co’s contracts dictates that any third party with which mercenaries may contract will have a bridging clause that states their primary allegiance to Mann Co. Furthermore, if Mann Co requires a mercenary to change their interest or employment, then the third party must terminate the employment, as written in the contracts. This is only negotiated through Mann Co offices and is not negotiable.”

There was a bit of silence. The Medic seemed perturbed and confused at the same time. The Engineer was contemplating this, fingers rubbing at the bit of stubble that was growing out around his jaw. The crewmember was shrinking back, looking more and more unsure as to whether they could be fighting for anything at this point.

“I would like to add that the studio will be contacted on behalf of the Sniper’s contract due to oversight,” the Spy concluded.

“What?” Glenn looked at him with confusion, “What about my contract? What oversight?”

“Not yours,” the Spy gave him an irritated glance, “The other Spy. Xavier? I’m assured he has been in this area and employed at the same studio.”

“He has, but…” the crewmember looked at the other two, at a loss for words or direction.

“But what?” the Spy pressed.

The nameless crewmember looked back to the Spy, so incredulous and beyond words. When they managed to actually gain their voice, they said, “The Spy is wanted to appear for private investigation in regards to the assault and battery of the Sniper.”

The Spy did not even miss a beat when he spoke, “Oh dear. Sounds like quite a mess.”

“Mess,” Glenn growled, “You want a mess? I’ll give that Sniper a good wallop for his-”

His words were cut off by an exceedingly disturbing scream. The howl rose up like an animal being torn open by predators. It was followed by a thud that brought Glenn to his senses. That was when he realized that his hackles had risen, his body felt cold, and his hand had gone to where his kukri usually sat at his belt.

“What is going on in there?” the crewmember tried to push in, sounding worried.

“The hell are ya’ll doing in there?” the Engineer added.

Glenn turned to the other Spy, “You deal with this lot, I’ll see what’s going on.”

The Spy nodded and gestured for him to leave. Glenn took his leave, letting the Spy take his place. Hopefully the man could hold them off. At least it seemed that his wits could better them, making at least two of them back off, if he used the right words. Glenn was just the right brand of scary to make people back down if he got physically aggressive.

He made his way down the hall and opened the door. He frowned upon seeing Spy on the floor with the Soldier cradling his head. Maybe Spy was in worse condition than they had thought. He must have been hiding it before, so they would not worry about him. It sounded like the kind of sneaky thing that he would do anyways.

“What’s wrong?” was the first thing he blurted, wanting to know the immediate cause of the Spy’s collapse to the floor.

The Soldier turned his head to him, “It’s fine. He just needs water. He’s dehydrated and exhausted.”

“Think he needs a Medic?” Glenn inquired.

The Soldier paused, looking back down at the Spy’s face, “Do you need a Medic?”

“No,” the Spy croaked, barely able to speak.

“I’ll get the water, mate,” Glenn said, closing the door as he stepped out.

He hurried back up the hallway and into the main area. The others had already started bickering. Now they were threatening physical force, yet somehow stayed outside of the Spy’s wit-powered barrier.

“You idiots are still here?” he barked at them, but stayed a good distance away. He was on a mission to fetch some water for his friend.

“You bring that twisted little bastard out here, or we’ll come in!” the Medic raised his voice.

“And I told you before,” the Spy replied coolly, “If you step in here, I will have to use force in defense. You know how this goes. Mann Co does not side with you in this instance.”

“Mann Co has nothing to do with this,” the Engineer argued, “The Spy assaulted Sniper on civilian territory.”

“And that weight is for Mann Co to decide,” the Spy quipped.

“You Spies would bias and jank up the entire thing, wouldn’t ya?” the Engineer snarled a little bit.

Glenn frowned, remembering how he remembered thinking of that Engineer as a kind fellow. He did not seem so kind anymore. In fact, he worried about how he might have treated Hugh before, if that was how he behaved towards Spies.

“Has nobody here heard the other side of the story?” Glenn inquired loudly so they would hear him.

“What other side of the story?” the Medic scoffed.

“We can’t get the other side of the story if we don’t meet the Spy,” the crewmember pressed eagerly.

“You’re not seeing him,” Glenn growled.

“You cannot hide him forever,” the Engineer put in, “Eventually he’s gonna have to come out of his hole and get away from his shield.”

“And what shield do you bear, Engineer?” the Spy asked, slick tongue sliding these words in to cut into their protests.

“I’m about ready to bring down the hammer on you, boy,” the Engineer pointed a finger at the Spy.

They were getting close to breaking through the Spy’s little barrier. He would have to worry about it later. He took a glass and filled it with fresh clean water from one of the bottles in the pantry. Whoever heard of bottling water? He would rather go to a stream and drink like the animals do.

He made no fuss about it, even now, as he took the water down the hall to the Spy’s bedroom. “I avoided him then too,” he heard the Spy speaking clearly, “And I-” He cut off as Glenn opened the door. Glenn held out the glass of water to hand it over. More than that, his curiosity was peaked and he needed some answers about what was going on.

The Soldier leaped from where he knelt by the bed and took the glass from him. He was very careful not to spill it. When he was certain that he would not spill it, he turned his attention to the Sniper.

“Step out for a few minutes, please?” the Soldier requested, managing a kind voice.

Glenn hesitated, feeling a little bit put off. He glanced at Hugh, who was sprawled on the bed, looking like he was recovering from a head injury. After what was happening in the den, he was not sure he should leave his friend alone. He puffed up his chest and stayed defiant about staying.

He was about to speak, when Andrew cut him off, “I’ll let you in after. Please, just let us finish our conversation.”

He backed off when he realized it was a private conversation. Whatever was going on, it was not his business. He should just remove himself and let them have their space. He nodded to the Soldier before he left, softly closing the door behind himself.

He walked into the den, ready to put up a fight. His friend was laying on the bed, probably with a concussion. His only other source of defense for this place was the other damn Spy. Now they were being yelled at by these cretins about that other Sniper getting assaulted.

He wondered how it went down. Considering Spy’s state, it was possible that the Sniper had started the fight. He never struck Glenn as a violent guy. He especially did not seem like he wanted to hurt Hugh. If anything, it almost seemed like the man had some sort of interest in him.

“Know what? I don’t rightly care what any of you say! Go off! Complain! I’ll be seeing you mongrels in your coffins if you don’t get out!” Glenn grabbed the door, ready to slam it.

“Also,” the Spy took a step back as Glenn stepped in, “Be sure to alert the Sniper to cooperate with Mann Co officials. It will be in his best interest to be as cooperative as possible in investigating just how many times he has broken contract, not to mention the law.”

With that, Glenn slammed the door. It was satisfying and ended with him patting his hands on his pants. It felt good to slam the door on them and make them feel lesser or otherwise obstructed. The yelling stopped, which was another boon to the situation.

“As soon as they are gone, I’ll be taking my leave,” the Spy said adjusting his lapels.

“Why? Where are you going?” Scout scrambled to get up.

“I’m just going to finish taking care of some things in town. I’ll be back again later,” the Spy assured the Scout.

Glenn did not care either way. The Spy was no friend of his. He had no reason to care. He was not really sure why the Scout even cared about this Spy.

“Ah…right okay…see you later then,” the Scout waved, before settling back in his seat by the chair. Glenn eyed the Spy, as the man carefully gauged the sounds outside of the door. It would be safest to leave once those idiots from the studio had long gone.

“Uh…when you uh…get back?” Scout spoke up again, breaking whatever concentration the Spy had.

Still, despite the frustrating interruption he turned his full attention to the Scout. It was an odd turn, considering very few people would give the Scout full attention. The man rarely had something interesting to say. Whenever he spoke, Glenn tried to tune him out. It was easier to stay sane that way.

“Do you think we could um…I don’t know…hang out or something?” Scout shrugged, obviously unsure of his own inquiry.

Glenn felt his face scrunch in confusion and disgust. What Scout liked to do was beyond him, but wanting to spend time with the RED Spy was the strangest to him. Of all things, that seemed to be the most off. They had spent decades fighting this man on the opposing team, yet somehow they were now supposed to be friends.

He shook his head slightly. There were things he would just never get used to. There were things he would never understand or learn. He supposed that was just others’ prerogatives though. He could just leave them to their weird ideologies. He could stick to his own ideas.

The Spy nodded to Scout’s request, “Perhaps we can go to an ice cream shop.”

“Heh…I’m not a kid,” Scout looked a little embarrassed by that.

Glenn rolled his eyes. Scout was definitely a kid, at least by other mercenaries’ standards. He was physically young and spry. Not to mention his attitude. It was something like a college jock who had not grown out of high school.

“You still like ice cream though,” the Spy chuckled to himself.

Scout chuckled, blushing in response. That much Glenn could understand of the Scout’s expressions. He did not understand why he turned his face away. He did not understand why he started scratching at the tip of his nose.

“I just haven’t seen you in so long. I would like to spend some time together,” the Scout explained.

“I understand,” the Spy nodded.

“You know? It’s been a while since we’ve talked,” the Scout went on.

“Alright, we’ll talk,” the Spy raised a hand, despite the Scout being unable to see him, “I just have some things to do. When I come back, we’ll talk.”

“Cool,” Scout smiled, “Thanks.”

The Spy paused, looking at the Sniper. He was not sure what to think, as the man’s eyes pierced sharply into his own gaze. They were frozen there for an inexplicably long time.

“Watch over him for me,” the man said softly, before turning to the door.

Glenn nodded before he was sure why he was nodding. He watched the Spy leave. It only drew his curiosity that the two of them had some sort of connection or bond that the Spy had so much interested in the younger mercenary.

The Soldier stomping out of the bedroom broke through his thoughts. Seeing the disgruntled looking man storming out, he decided to take his turn. It was time for him to see what he could find out from Hugh. If nothing else, he could make sure his friend was alright. Seeing the way the Soldier was walking, he was not sure they had not had a fight of some sort.


	43. Kicking and Screaming

The Soldier came marching down the hallway from the bedroom like a man on a mission. Drake noticed how angry Soldier seemed to be. He stomped right into the living room and plopped himself in a seat with some raging gusto. Then he began thrumming his fingers against an armrest, like there was something he had to think over.

“So like, what’s going on?” he asked Soldier, as the Sniper’s footsteps headed off down the hallway.

The Soldier sighed loudly, “It’s complicated.”

“It’s been complicated for years,” Drake plopped down on the couch when he found it.

“Not this complicated,” Soldier growled.

“How come? You guys are together now right? I mean, unless there’s somebody else,” he shrugged.

The thrumming of the fingers stopped. The Soldier said nothing, remaining silent under the unspoken questions to come. He must have hit something on the nose. That did not seem quite right, but there was a chance. They had been separated for so long that there was a good chance that the Spy had moved on.

“So uh…what’s going to happen now?” he asked.

It was disappointing to think that things might not work out. Soldier had been looking forward to seeing his Spy. Their Spy was a good guy, usually. He never thought that he would be so low as to pick up somebody new and toss off the Soldier. That seemed rather horrible, for Spy to just forget about Soldier and to move on to somebody else.

“You know what? Forget that guy!” he declared, hoping to take Soldier’s mind off of this travesty, “You’re better than him, right?”

The Soldier hesitated before he spoke, “Scout…I don’t think you-”

“You don’t need that guy,” Drake insisted, “You’re better than that! You survived on the freaking streets!”

“That’s not- Scout, please stop,” Soldier said, somberly.

“What? What’s the matter?” Drake inquired.

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Soldier pleaded.

“Oh…um…I’m sorry,” he hesitated, wishing he could take back his words, “I just wanted to cheer you up. You know? Be supportive?”

“There’s not another person taking my Spy,” the Soldier said sternly, “He can’t take him from me.”

“Whoa man…that’s a little strong, don’t you think?” the Scout asked worriedly.

“You miss what I mean, son,” the Soldier replied.

Drake sighed, “So, is there somebody else? Or isn’t there?”

“There is…” the Soldier cut off, letting his sentence go for the moment. He seemed to fall into deep thought.

“You know I can’t see if you’re making a face,” he commented.

“I’m thinking,” the Soldier assured him.

“Okay,” Drake pressed, “What are you thinking?”

Soldier sighed loudly, “There’s a man I don’t know.”

“Well, what kinda guy is this? What’s he? Creeping on your Spy or something?” he asked.

There was a moment of silence before the Soldier spoke again, “He’s done a terrible thing to our Spy.”

“Like what? Did he break his fingers or something in a fight? I had that happen to me before. Got drunk and started a fight with the enemy Soldier. Guy only had to grab my hand and crunch!” he put emphasis on the last word as he raised his hand to gesture.

“Worse,” the Soldier’s voice sounded very wary.

“Okay, so like…what? What are we going to do about it?” Drake pressed, hoping Soldier might someday get to the point of what he was talking about.

Fingers thrummed against the armrest again. Another loud sigh came from the man as he pondered this situation. Perhaps he was still just too frustrated to wrap his head around all of this. They only just saw the Spy for the first time in years. Maybe they needed more time to talk things out and plan.

“Hey, it’s okay to wait if you gotta plan shit,” Drake shrugged.

“It’s not that,” the Soldier replied, “I don’t know who this man is. I don’t know how to find him.”

“What if we asked my da- I mean, the other Spy? He might know,” he fumbled, trying to recover from verbally outing himself and his father. By this point, Soldier knew about it, but it was not something they really talked about. “He knows all kinds of stuff. Sometimes information just pops out of him and you don’t know why he ever had it.”

“That’s a nice thought,” the Soldier replied, still thrumming his fingers against that armrest.

Drake frowned at the response. It seemed like Soldier was just not going to share. Whatever it was, it was troubling enough to get the Soldier thinking about it. Whoever this guy was, he must have been pretty bad.

“So Spy won’t tell you,” Drake huffed, “Let’s just get other Spy to help. It seems like a long shot, but it’s not!”

“No,” the Soldier shook his head, with a sigh, “Spy doesn’t want us to fight him.”

“The hell cares what Spy wants?” Drake protested. He could already feel his hands itching for a fight.

“Because it’s Spy’s trauma,” Soldier explained.

“The hell does that mean?” that was the most confusing thing Soldier had ever said to him.

“Spy is the one going through this,” the Soldier explained, “He gets to decide how we’re approaching the problem.”

“This guy…as a problem…has got to go,” Drake insisted, “Seriously, he wouldn’t be any problem for any one of us to take on!”

“It’s not that, Scout,” the Soldier insisted, “Spy is…dealing with it.”

“Dealing with it how?” Drake pressed, “Because Spies like to say they are dealing with it when something comes up. That doesn’t mean anything though. That doesn’t mean anything, unless you actually explain what you mean that you’re going to do.”

Soldier sighed, “He’s not dealing with it by doing something about the man.”

“Why the hell not?” Drake scoffed, “He’s got us to back him up. We can take him down!”

“It’s not easy to deal with this, Scout,” Soldier insisted.

“It’s just a shovel to the freaking head!” Drake raised his voice.

“We’re not doing that,” Soldier protested again.

“But you gotta teach that guy a lesson!” Drake threw his arms up in exasperation, “You gotta think about the bigger picture here!”

“I have to think about my Spy being sexually assaulted by a goddamn Sniper!” Soldier raised his voice angrily.

There was a long silence. It was a pause for breath and disbelief in what was just said. Did the Soldier realize what he just said? Drake was sure he probably did. Still, he was in utter disbelief in what he had just heard.

“Assaulted? S-sexually?” he stammered, “Like…a guy…doing a guy…but like…um…” He was not sure how to put it into words. Somehow that seemed like an easier matter to figure out if it were a girl.

“Yes Scout,” Soldier’s voice was rough and stern. Anger boiled beneath the surface. No doubt he truly wanted to kill the guy who did this. “Imagine being used like a toy…and having to act like it didn’t happen.”

He did try to imagine it. His attempt was very weak though. He just could not see anybody actually trying hard enough to succeed at raping him. There were so many obvious ways he could avoid that. How could he ever have that happen to him?

“Please…” the Soldier spoke more hesitantly now, “Please don’t say anything to anyone. Don’t bring it up to Spy. He doesn’t need this on his mind.”

“I…I won’t say anything,” Drake agreed.

A few moments of silence followed, before he said, “Good.”

After a little while, the bedroom door opened. Sniper came out, returning to the living room. It was just his footsteps, a long stride with boots that were never taken off for the carpets or the linoleum flooring. He could count the strides on one hand, which meant the hallway was not too long.

“He wants to see you,” Sniper said.

The seat creaked as the Soldier got up onto his feet. He seemed to forget that the Scout was there, as it shifted behind Drake’s back. He gave no argument or protest. He did not want to be a bother right now. He could tell that the other guys were well in the know of what was going on, and they were trying to handle it emotionally.

His mother always said that her boys never handled emotions very well. Drake and his brothers grew into stoic types, at least he was sure they all did. They did not need to cry or weep for anything short of dismemberment. Still, that did not mean that emotion was absent from this moment. Scout was not really sure what he was feeling right now, mostly because he was not sure about his feelings about the Spy.

Feelings or no feelings, Spy was a teammate. Spy was a friend. In some strange way, Spy was like that weird uncle you end up with in your family. Spy deserved retribution.

When he finished counting Soldier’s steps to the bedroom door, he got to his feet. He waited for the door to close, before he spoke. He turned to where he hoped Sniper was.

“So, uh…you’re not going to sit on your hands like Soldier is, are you?” Drake asked.

“Nah mate,” the sound of skin rubbing against skin came from the Sniper. Maybe he was rubbing his hands together.

“What will you do?” he inquired.

“I was thinking about loading my guns in the camper and heading down to where that Sniper is and kicking his teeth in,” Sniper explained.

“Oh…” that sounded like an intriguing idea. He wanted to join in.

“Think I know where they took him,” Sniper went on, “They’ve got a Medic too, so he’s probably not actually going to a hospital.”

“You know where he’ll be?” he asked, feeling a touch eager about it.

“Yea,” Sniper replied. He sounded like he was nodding his head.

“Think uh…” he scratched his nose hesitantly, “Think I could come with you?”

“What for? You wanna watch with your blind eyes?” Sniper jested.

Scout scrambled to his feet, leaning on his crutches. He hefted one of them, getting a feel of its weight like a baseball bat. It was not as heavy or effective for swinging at something, but it could do the trick just fine.

“I was hoping to have a crack at that guy’s face,” he answered.

“Are you so sure you should be getting involved?” Sniper asked, “You can barely stand on two feet.

“You let me worry about me,” Drake assured him.

“You want to get into a fight?” the question sounded rhetorical, but he nodded anyways. The Sniper took a breath and jingled some keys. “Well, let’s not waste time sitting around here then. Let’s get down to the truck.”

“Right behind you!” Drake hurried to follow him out the door. It was difficult to traverse without a bit of help, but he made do by following the sounds of the man’s jingling keys and loud boots clicking against the floor.

 

 

The truck pulled up to a truck stop. They had not expected to stop here. Drake needed a moment to actually recognize the smells that told that this place was a truck stop.

“Where are we?” he asked.

“I see his truck,” Sniper growled.

“You mean the guy?” Drake asked eagerly.

“Yea huh,” Sniper was probably nodding again, forgetting that his companion could not see.

“Let’s park and go fuck that guy up!” he punched a fist into his opposite hand.

“We might not get the confrontation you’re expecting,” Sniper said, “I see his friends.”

Drake nodded, but said nothing more. They drove a little further before they parked. HE waited to hear the Sniper open his door, before doing the same.

The air that hit him was hot with the smog of giant gas guzzlers. It was thick and suffocating, threatening to cut off oxygen supply. The heat was an unnatural feeling that beat against his face. The rumble of an engine was overwhelmingly loud, speaking to the evident use of diesel.

He tried to focus, straining to hear the Sniper over the roar of engines. After a few moments, he heard the Australian call for him by his title. Relieved, he hobbled towards him on his crutches, tuning into the sound of his boots. He was eventually stopped by a hand that came to the front of his shirt.

“You!” the German man who came to the apartment door growled in a familiar way.

Drake puffed up his chest, prepping for a fight. He was ready for it. Crutches or none, he could at least put up a fight. After what he had learned about the Spy, he was going to knock the guy’s teeth in.

“The hell are you doing here?’ that Texan who came over asked. There was accusation on his tongue, and Drake did not like that.

“I have a bone to pick with you,” Sniper growled.

Drake listened in silence. He was almost holding his breath. The suspense of not knowing everything was building up in him. He did not know precisely who it was that they had a bone to pick with, but he was eager to find out. Not knowing put him on the edge of his seat. He needed to know, eager to face off with the guy who did their Spy wrong. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, waiting to find out who it was they were here to beat the life out of.

It had to be somebody who was tricky. It had to be somebody who could outplay a Spy. After all, he did manage to get the Spy. Knowing him, if he was as good as his dad, then the man had to be tricked by a real slick con man. He had to be some sort of sweet talker or something, maybe the kind of man that made others drop their shields.

“What do you want?” a much deeper and raspier Australian voice replied to the Sniper’s threat.

That voice gave Drake the chills. There was something evil there, as if he spoke with the tongue of demons. He felt his hackles rise with the awareness of a hunted rodent amidst a den of carnivores.

“Id’ like to give you a gobful, that’s what I want,” the friendly Sniper replied in a snarl of anger.

The other Australian chuckled, a deep and throaty sound. Drake shuddered as he imagined a demon standing before them, chuckling at the Sniper standing by Drake. It was the kind of sound that gives a man the need to pray to some deity unseen.

“So, what? You and the cripple are fixing for a fight?” he sounded like he was smiling.

Drake could not stop himself from picturing sharp jagged teeth in the man’s mouth. He sounded like a demon, so how else could he look? The man sounded like he could very well be the devil himself. Perhaps he truly was a slick conman like the devil might very well be.

“Don’t you go starting a fight!” the Texan warned.

“I’m not the one starting anything,” the other Aussie growled.

“Oh, I’ll gladly start this fight!” Drake took a step forward, swallowing back fear. He swayed a little, but his crutch was there for him to catch himself on.

The other Australian laughed, “Can’t hardly walk. You think you can fight?”

The Sniper on his side touched his shoulder, “Stand back, kid.”

Drake grit his teeth. He felt defiant. He felt mad. It was enough to fuel beyond his feelings about what happened to the Spy. It burned the rage into his chest and solidified it beyond capacity of extinguishing it.

“Probably should have left the kid at home,” the other Australian mocked.

Drake bared his teeth, “I’m not a kid!” He shook off the Sniper’s hand angrily. He was too frustrated to deal with him.

“Don’t do anything brash,” Sniper said in a low voice.

The demon-like Sniper laughed, “Let him loose! See what a broken mutt can do!”

“I ain’t a mutt! Fuck you!” Drake leaped forward.

His muscles were strained from the lack of use in this way. He ignored the pain as he bounded forward. He took a hold of a crutch with two hands and swung it as hard as he could. It met with something, giving off a loud CRACK at the middle of his swing.

“Hah!” he let out a bark of a laugh. A gleeful smile cracked his face.

“Medic’s down!” the Texan exclaimed, dropping beside the downed man.

“Oh,” he had not thought of accidentally knocking down the wrong person.

Suddenly, a large spindly hand grabbed the back of his neck. Fear chased the fight out of him as he was lifted off the ground. He kicked his feet, trying to hit something. His feet swung freely through the air without impacting with anything.

“Hey!” he heard Sniper call out, “Put him down!”

Scout’s feet hit the ground, but his weak legs sent him to his knees. He dropped forward to his hands. He took a few breaths, trying to ground himself in reality. He moved slowly to his feet.

He tried to catch his bearings, unsure of where he was or what just happened. He heard something, he just did not know what it was that he heard. He was halfway up when a foot slammed into his side. The breath left him in a grunt as he fell onto his side. He tried to groan in pain, but he did not have the breath to do so. He opened his mouth but nothing came out of it.

He heard his name. He had no clue who was calling to him though. It was a distant call, like some holy angel was coming to escort him away from life’s pains.

He had no chance to catch his breath, as a boot slammed into him again. It kicked his ribs repetitively. Over and over, it beat the life out of his ribs.

He grappled for the ground, trying to get away. A hand grabbed the back of his hair and began to pull on him. He reached up to try and stop the hand, but it dragged him. He kicked and struggled, his body dragged across the pavement. When the hand finally let go, his head landed against the edge of a sidewalk. He grunted in pain and slowly tried to pull himself up. He was not going to lay down and take it, not like this.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Antoine came back to the apartment to find that Drake and the Sniper were gone. He had figured the Sniper might go off and do his own thing, but it did not explain his son’s disappearance.

He strode down the hall to the bedroom door. Not wanting to barge into what might well be a private situation, he knocked on the door. He waited patiently, but he did not dare to put his ear to the door.

“Just a minute,” he heard the Soldier call, before the shuffling of feet preceded him.

He waited some more, listening to the loud shuffling of the Soldier’s heavy feet. The man opened the door and stepped halfway out of the doorway. He gave Antoine a once over curiously.

“What is it?” the Soldier met his gaze, blinking curiously.

“Do you know where Scout and…the Sniper have gone?” he asked.

The Soldier blinked at him, “Um…I don’t know. Did they leave the apartment? I’m not sure where they might have gone. I mean…unless they went for food. Scout was hungry.”

He shook his head, “I’m going to go look for him. If you see them, tell Drake to stay put.”

He hurried from the apartment and down to his car. He hastily started the car to start driving. He had no idea where he was supposed to look. There was no telling where they could have gone. If he knew exactly why they left, then perhaps it would be easier to find them. If they truly did leave to get food, if the Sniper truly did have a heart to feed Drake, then they were in one of the many restaurants or other eateries in this huge city.

 

 

Antoine was driving for a long time, going in circles and getting himself lost. He must have driven for half an hour. He was just driving to random areas at this point, desperate to find the Sniper’s truck.

He was mentally kicking himself too now. He had been driving around aimlessly, but for what? Where was he supposed to look? They could have gone anywhere. For all he knew, they had returned to the apartment right after he left, and they were waiting for him to come back. At least, he could say that he tried to find his son.

He was just pulling to a stop at an intersection when he decided to call it quits. He was not getting anywhere with this. He was just driving around randomly without any direction. There was no way he was going to find either of them this way.

His thoughts immediately cut off as he noticed a camper truck in the truck stop. He did a double take, both taken aback and concerned. There were two similar camper trucks in the same parking lot, each of them parked far apart. There were no trucks between them though.

He quickly turned, ignoring a red light. He peeled into the parking lot and whipped into a spot. He jumped from his car and ran to the area to see what was going on. He could already see the figures, easily picking out Glenn Smuthers and Xavier Hackley.

The closer he got, the harder he ran. He spotted Drake, who was kicked in the ribs. He called out his son’s name, wishing he could tell him to take evasive actions. Unable to do much more, he ran as hard as he could towards the attackers. Rather, it seemed that there was only one attacker, despite the other two men standing aside. Glenn Smuthers was down on the ground, apparently knocked out.

“Drake! No!” he called out in fear.

He could see the Sniper take a hold of his son’s hair, lifting him and dragging him to the walk by the building. Drake’s head was placed against the concrete, and the Sniper drew up his leg. Antoine’s heart panged with panic as he threw himself into full speed at the Sniper, hoping to all things holy that he might make it in time to stop the man from breaking Drake.

“No you don’t!” he flung himself at the Sniper, throwing him off balance. With only one foot on the ground, it was easy to knock him over. The struggle simply required that Antoine make sure that the man fell away from his son.

“Sniper!” he barked, turning to look over at Glenn.

Glenn was groaning and rubbing his jaw. He slowly got up, not entirely aware of what was happening. He was probably trying to catch his bearings.

“Get him out of here!” he yelled at him.

He turned his attention back in time to flinch back. He barely managed to get out of range of a punch, lessening the impact of the knuckles. He stumbled back, getting out of the Sniper’s range. He wiped his face with a hand, glad to find that he was not bleeding from the nose.

He glanced over his shoulder to see the Sniper doing as he had been told. He was getting Drake to his feet and dragging him off to the camper. Luckily they faced no issues, given the other two men were just sort of standing by and not getting involved in this fight.

He turned quickly back to the Sniper. The taller man was about to round on him, looking to put up a fight. His eyes held a fire of rage that sent a chill up his spine. His hands balled into fists and he found himself taking a step back, unwilfully so. Having tangled with him once, he knew what he was dealing with, but at the same time, he knew that the man would not hold back for anything.

“I don’t have a fight with you, Spy,” the Sniper growled. Antoine opened his mouth to speak, but the Sniper interrupted him, speaking right over his thoughts. “But I’ll knock the piss out of you when I’m done.”

Antoine got into a defensive stance. The Sniper charged forward and slammed his body right into him. He yelped in surprise, but tried to recover. He grabbed a hold of the taller man’s arm and tried to swing him around. The man’s momentum pulled him along, forcing him to stumble after him.

He barely managed to keep up as Xavier charged after the other Sniper and the Scout. Antoine tried to throw himself forward, trying to get past the Sniper. He would not let him hurt his son. He would put himself in harm’s way before he let anything happen to him.

Xavier reached out and grabbed a handful of hair. Drake howled in pain at being pulled back, being thrown off balance. Glenn accidentally released him, unable to hold onto him. Antoine flung himself forward to grab the arm that had grabbed a hold of Drake.

Was this really happening? A mere glance at the other two men told him that nobody else saw a problem with this. How could this be happening though? They were in civilian turf. They were out in the open where civilians could see the fight. What was more was that they were watching this man violently harm a crippled man.

“Don’t touch him!” he swung a fist up, barely managing to meet the man’s chin as he pulled back.

“You’re a thorn in my side!” the Sniper growled.

He did not even see the hands going for his head. Before he knew it he was drowning in the awful stench of the Sniper’s body odor. He let out a scream and began to thrash. He pushed against the man’s body, but could not get away from him. When he broke free, he barely managed to turn before strong hands grabbed him by the neck. His feet left the ground and he thrashed harder.

He did not have a chance. It came in a loud snap. He gasped but he could not thrash anymore, his body falling limp to the concrete at the Sniper’s feet.


	44. Sometimes Family and Friends Make You Mad

The phone interrupted the quiet evening. It was shortly followed by the sound of the door slamming. What an annoyance to have to deal with.

“I’ll get it,” Andrew insisted, rolling away and off the bed.

“I need to get up anyways,” Hugh sighed, as he got to his feet.

The ringing stopped and Glenn’s voice could be heard. Hugh stood up, and hurried towards the door, wanting to hear who might be on the other end of the line. It was not Glenn’s place to answer it, then again he probably picked up on the fact that things were out of sorts for Hugh.

He was stopped short as he opened the door. He looked at the hand that took his wrist, then up at the man holding it. He was holding out a blue balaclava, offering it to him.

“The window in there isn’t covered,” Andrew offered.

Hugh gave him a smile of gratitude. He appreciated the man looking out for him. He even let him assist in getting it over his head. He headed into the den as he started adjusting it, eager to find out who was calling.

Drake was hobbling towards the couch. He moved slowly on his crutches, with the look of a man who had been through a brutal fight. Hugh gave him a curious look, but moved on to look at the Sniper, who was standing by the counter with the phone to his ear. The curly wire connecting the handheld to the receiver was making weird knots that tried to pull the handheld closer.

“Right,” Glenn was saying, “I got him here. He’s fine.” There was a long pause. “He’s kind of taking a seat now. Think you can bottle it up to yell at him later?”

“Who is that?” Hugh interrupted.

“It’s Spy,” Glenn offered the handheld to Hugh.

He quirked an eyebrow as he took the phone from Glenn. He put it to his ear, “Hello?”

Antoine growled at the other end of the line, “Put that damn Sniper back on the line!” He sounded like he was angrily gnashing his teeth.

Hugh glanced at Glenn as he switched to French, “Do not raise your voice at me.”

Antoine switched to using French as well, “You had better tell your friend that the next time he decides to go off and make trouble with serial killers, he had better not drag my son into it!”

Hugh pursed his lips as he processed this. He looked at Glenn again, who was going to the single chair by the couch. He looked at Drake, who was quietly groaning and rocking in pain.

He turned his attention back to the phone and spoke again in French, “What exactly did he do?”

“Aside from getting my neck snapped?” Antoine had a wistful tone that mocked the idea that everything was fine, “He dragged Drake out to meet with that fucking Sniper! He almost got Drake killed! Had I not stepped in, Drake would be dead! And that bastard had better keep a far distance from him.”

“I hear what you are saying,” Hugh tried to calm him down, feeling a little overwhelmed by Antoine’s anger, “I’ll have a talk with them and make sure Drake stays put. Are you alright right now? Where are you?”

“Payphone outside of the Global Respawn in Portland,” Antoine explained.

“There’s one in Oregon?” Hugh asked with surprise.

“I know, it’s apparently new,” Antoine explained.

“What do you want me to do about your kid?” Hugh asked, careful to be sure that Drake did not understand any of the French they were using. He eyed the younger man thoughtfully.

“I’m going up to Toronto,” Antoine sighed, “I need the papers from my vehicle though.”

“You left your car?” Hugh asked with surprise.

“Haha, you can’t take a car through respawn,” Antoine spoke with bitter sarcasm on his tongue.

“Look, just tell me what you want,” Hugh insisted a bit irritably.

“Go pick up my car,” Antoine explained, “Unless it has been towed or stolen, the keys should be in it. Meet me in Toronto. Bring Drake with you.”

“Alright fine, that sounds reasonable,” Hugh agreed, “What are you going to do about him?”

“For now?” Antoine paused with a sigh, “For now, I’ll find him a place to shack up and hide in Canada. He’s not going off on his own like that again.”

“Alright then,” Hugh sighed, his mind going back to work, “What do you expect me to do about the studio?”

“I took care of it,” Antoine insisted.

“As in?” Hugh pressed for more information.

“You’re being relocated to the Toronto location. Don’t worry about the studio. Don’t even fuss about the Sniper,” Antoine explained, “Just get your ass out of California. Don’t look back.”

“Alright then, see you in Toronto,” Hugh nodded, despite the other man being unable to see him.

“See you,” was Antoine’s simple response before hanging up.

Hugh set the phone down, then marched into the den. He frowned as he looked Glenn over. He got a defensive look, as the man folded his arms over his chest.

“What?” Glenn barked, still acting defensively.

“You got the other Spy killed,” Hugh growled.

“You what? What’s going on?” Drake flinched, acting with some panic.

“He’s fine,” Hugh insisted, “Thankfully.” He turned his attention back to Glenn with a frown. “Had it been one of you, you would be dead.”

“I had things under control until this brat started throwing a fit!” Glenn threw an accusatory finger at the Scout.

“Hey, I wouldn’t have had to throw anything, if you had actually stepped up to the plate!” Scout yelled at him.

Andrew looked between the Sniper and the Scout, “What’s going on?”

“This idiot took the Scout out to meet the…” he paused, thinking for an apt set of words to use, “The Haunted Hills killer.”

“That guy is so creepy!” Scout exclaimed.

“Scout wanted to come along,” Glenn said with a dismissive gesture, “I ain’t one to stop a grown adult from doing what he wants. So, he came.”

“And what did you think you were doing by going out to find him in the first place?” he growled in frustration.

“Give the fucker a piece of my mind,” Glenn gave the Scout an accusatory glare, “Didn’t get a chance to say it with this brat yapping like a dingo.”

“I’m not a brat! Or a dingo!” the Scout raised his voice in pitch with anger and frustration.

“You idiots almost got yourselves killed,” Hugh growled.

“Somebody has to put that bastard in line,” Glenn growled, “Whatever he did…anyways…”

“What he did was wrong!” Drake leaped to his feet and immediately regretted it. He flailed for balance, but he had none. He tried to grab something and ended up falling against Hugh for assistance standing. “Somebody has to do more than put that guy in his place!” Drake declared, somehow seeming to know what the Sniper was guilty of.

“You went after him?” Andrew jumped to his feet and turned to the Scout.

“Yea…well…somebody’s gotta do something! We’re freaking mercenaries!” Drake exclaimed, throwing his arms up into the air.

“That…you’re blind and barely able to stand,” Hugh told him sternly.

“So? You can’t stop me from fighting!” Drake protested angrily, pushing off of Hugh’s shoulder.

“You could have been killed!” Andrew scorned.

“Without a respawn, you would never have gotten up again,” Hugh added.

Drake took a stumbling step. He tripped and flopped against the couch. He made it work so that it seemed as though he did it on purpose.

“I told you to leave it be,” Andrew growled.

Hugh eyed him sideways, “When did you tell him to leave what be?”

“I um…” Andrew turned his face away as he grew embarrassed. He must have done something that he knew he was not supposed to.

“I don’t take orders, Soldier,” Drake spat defiantly, “You of all people should want to do something about that guy! Don’t you want to?”

“Of course I want to!” Andrew snapped at the younger mercenary.

“You told him?” Hugh turned to Andrew, putting the pieces together to form the bigger picture.

“I could have walloped that guy if that German guy – I think he was a Medic – hadn’t gotten in the way!” Drake said excitably.

“You were swinging blindly,” Glenn commented passive aggressively.

“I know I was! Stop throwing it in my face!” Drake raised his voice at the Sniper.

“You can’t see it otherwise,” the Sniper growled.

“Somebody has to do something! So what? Are we just going to sit on our hands? Or are we going to go string that guy up like yesterday’s weak sauce?” the Scout announced proudly, raising a hand to point towards the ceiling.

“That…didn’t make any sense,” Glenn blinked at him.

“We’re not stringing up anybody,” Hugh turned his attention fully to the Scout.

“What?” Drake turned his disconcerted look towards him, staring blindly at nothing.

“You heard me,” he dismissed the question.

“You of all people should want to destroy that guy!” Drake exclaimed, slamming a fist down on the armrest.

“Well, we’re not doing a thing,” Hugh shot Andrew a disapproving look, irritated at what he was having to deal with in the aftermath of what Andrew had told the younger mercenary. He turned to Glenn and took a deep breath. “I need you to give us a ride,” he instructed.

Glenn blinked at him slowly. He paused before getting up onto his feet, “Where to?”

“Where you had this spat,” Hugh explained.

“You’re not going to find anything there, mate,” Glenn interrupted him.

“The RED Spy’s vehicle was left behind,” he argued.

“Oh,” Drake intervened, “That’s right.”

“You wanna pick up his car?” Glenn inquired.

Hugh nodded, “Yes of course. What part of that was not made clear?” He raised a questioning eyebrow at the Sniper.

“I’ll get my keys,” Glenn said, headed to the kitchen counter.

“I’ll…get my things,” Hugh strode down the hall to his bedroom. He had a lot of things to pack up to take with them. Andrew followed at his heel to help him with whatever he was doing.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Mauzirio was not sure what to make of what had happened. He was standing in the parking lot, looking over the area. It had taken a lot to clean up the mess made by a Sniper killing out in the open.

With the Spy’s body aside, the rest was easy to clean up. The final step was simply to make sure that something like this did not happen again. Mostly, that meant that the Sniper needed to be punished, and the conspirators needed to learn that standing aside to let it happen on civilian soil would not be accepted.

The payphone rang again and he quickly answered it. He was relieved to find that it was his contact in New York again. The man working on this paperwork was finally back after contacting superiors to figure out the next step.

“We’re sending someone from Central to sweep up,” the man explained.

“Cleaning up this mess takes more than sweeping,” he commented, with disgust on his tongue. He was not fond of thinking over what had occurred there in the midst of a trucker lot. There was death, but then there was pathetic behavior.

He was not there to see it all go down. That had taken a lot of tracking down. Having spent the day trying to track down the RED Spy’s vehicle, he was already on the man’s trail by the time he was dead.

It was on the security tapes that he found out what he needed to know about all of this. He found out the real issue here in California, in regards to Mann Co mercenaries. He never would have guessed that any mercenary would have stepped over the line to kill another mercenary out in the open in that way.

As he had erased that evidence, he had seethed over the view. It played over and over in his head. The Sniper had been ready to curb stomp the Scout. The heartless man had kicked and stomped him like a pathetic man stomps a puppy. What kind of person takes on a fight with a blind and clearly crippled man? Worse, who goes as far as to try and shatter their skull for being brash and insulting?

The evidence of this instance was erased, but the memory remained. It left a cold chill that ran up his spine and made him shiver. He did not want to know the man who could commit something like that. He did not even want to be associated with the friends of such a man.

“Those men on the security tapes,” his connection in New York went on, “They’ll be picked up shortly. We’ll probably relocate them. They’ll be forbidden from taking civilian jobs in the future.”

“Sounds smart,” he commented. That should be a given though. Who would let such people socialize with the outside world? These were the types of people that top tier high security facilities were meant for.

“You should probably head back to your initial location in Toronto,” the man went on, “We don’t want any extra loose ends in the area. It’ll be a cleaner sweep if we can move everybody out.”

“Perfect. Just got done with the job,” he smiled to himself, “I’ll be on my way shortly.”

“You really should get going,” the man on the other line insisted.

“Just a cup of coffee, then I’m off,” Maurizio insisted, before he hung up the phone. He said no goodbye, nor gave any formality. Who needed it here?

His thoughts drifted away from the call as a camper truck pulled in. The familiar bumper gleamed in the sunlight, making his eyes wince. As his gaze trailed along the side, his eyes caught the mismatched pattern of bullet holes that had long since left scars in the vehicle’s body. It was an older truck, beginning to rust and wear down with age. It was about time for it to retire, and time for the driver to take on a new vehicle.

He turned his gaze to the driver as the occupants climbed out. One lanky Sniper clambered out of the driver’s seat and stopped to stretch. He was not the problem Sniper, in fact he could do with a warning about the sweep that was coming this way.

From the other side of the cab, three men emerged, each one clambering out after the other. They stretched and groaned, clearly irritated at the lack of space in the cab. Why they did not think of riding in the living quarters was beyond him. They could have had plenty of space to hang out in the back.

“You all rode in the cab?” he asked as he approached them.

He caught the gaze of the BLU Spy. The man had a sharp wit, but today he seemed especially paranoid. His eyes jumped around, almost fearful that something was coming. His fingers fidgeted, as if fighting with his arms in the likely subconscious need to smoke a cigarette.

“Maurice!” he was greeted with big smiles from the Soldier and the Scout.

He smiled back at them, glad to see they were alright. After the footage he had witnessed, he was especially glad to see that Drake was in one piece. He probably did not even know how big Maurizio’s smile was, but the smile was not just for them to see. He genuinely felt pleased to see them.

“What brings you down here?” Andrew asked, reaching out to pat him on the shoulder.

“I caught wind of a fight down here,” he explained, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I came down to check out what was happening.”

“Oh yea…man…” Drake’s voice trailed off.

“There are cameras,” the Sniper commented.

Maurizio followed the Sniper’s gaze up to the cameras installed around the building. They were the very same cameras that had caught the fight. These cameras had caught sight of the Sniper prepping to curb stomp a Scout, with a Medic and an Engineer standing aside and watching. Neither of them even spoke a word to intervene in the matter.

“Ah yes,” he pointed to the camera closest to them, “I’ve taken care of those. Their footage could have been a problem to Mann Co.”

“Right,” the BLU Spy noted, glancing away, “A problem to Mann Co.”

“Well,” he paused, thinking up a way to save face, “It would have been a bother to us as well. It was quite a brutal scene.”

“Oh God,” Drake exclaimed, “You saw all that? How embarrassing!” He tried to cover his face, but was struggling between holding his crutches and hiding.

“I’ve erased the data,” Maurizio went on.

“Shame,” the Sniper tilted his head, the brim of his hat covering his face, “Would have been nice if somebody could use it as leverage on-” He cut off, looking at the BLU Spy, who was glaring at him menacingly.

“It would not have been useful,” Maurizio explained, “In fact, we’re doing a sweep in California. Yes, I just got off the phone with a man in New York who is sending agents.” Half of what he said was a bluff, but he had to make sure they understood the gravity of the situation.

“Holy shit! What are they going to do?” Drake asked, eager and cautious at the same time.

“There’ll be a full sweep,” he explained, “I don’t suggest getting caught in it. You probably should get moving out of California. There’s no room for mercenaries working in Los Angeles, after what’s happened.”

“So much for that,” Drake commented, with a shrug.

“It’s for the best,” the BLU Spy strolled over to the red car left behind by the RED Spy.

“Are you looking for something?” Maurizio followed him to the vehicle.

“The keys,” the Spy replied, “I’m taking this car back to Toronto.”

“Oh, returning it?” Maurizio inquired, digging out the keys he had procured from the car earlier.

“Yes,” the Spy took the keys without a work of request or even gratitude, “With any luck, we’ll get there in one piece.”

“Are we driving all the way there?” Andrew interrupted.

“Yes,” the Spy gave a nod.

“I’ll be heading to the same location,” Maurizio informed him, “So, I suppose I will see you there.”

“See you,” the BLU Spy gestured from Andrew to the Scout.

Andrew turned to Drake and put a hand on his shoulder. With a kind and gentle pressure of his hand, he guided Drake towards the car door. He was going to guide the younger mercenary into the back seat.

Maurizio paused him with an upraised hand, “Hey, I’ve got space in my car. We’re going the same way anyways. Why don’t you ride with me, Drake?”

Andrew raised his eyebrows at Maurizio, “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure,” he offered a smile, “Besides, you and…Spy…” he nodded to the man sitting behind the wheel already, “Could use some time to catch up. Am I right?”

Andrew nodded slowly, then patted Drake shoulder, “What do you say?”

“Hell yea!” Drake smiled, his mood changing quite dramatically, “Let’s get going!” Drake grabbed his crutches and began limping along. Maurizio gently guided him towards the passenger door of his own car, listening with one ear while he idly chattered.

He spared a glance at the other vehicle. He hoped everything was going to be alright between the Soldier and his Spy. He did not know the Spy too well, but he cared about the Soldier enough to wish him well. No doubt Andrew had missed being with his closest companion and lover. He knew the feeling himself, of wanting to be close to somebody and yet being so far apart. It was a terrible feeling that he would not wish upon his enemies.

“Alright, Scout,” he patted checked that Drake was fully in the car before closing the door, “Let’s head out.”


	45. Plans Gone Wrong

Toronto, 2011

Hugh sat beside Antoine, despite how squished their proximity was. Across from them, the Italian Spy was seated, looking rather nervous. Hugh was trying not to let on how nervous and terrified he was feeling. He kept it all down by putting on a rude expression, which Antoine seemed to already be wearing, for his distrust of the younger Spy.

“Why should we trust you?” Antoine growled, plucking at the gray jacket he was wearing.

All three of them were clad in the same dark gray attire, looking like some group of dim mourners. They had become part of Grey’s posse of informers. The Italian, Maurizio managed to make his attire stand out, with a black fedora on his head and white spatz shoes on his feet. The other two stuck to their guns of staying in a blend. They would not stand out, and they would not let others be able to determine which is which by any means.

“I did not ask you to trust me,” Maurizio protested, trying to sound quite irritated at this, “I demanded to take part.”

Hugh lit up a cigarette to calm his nerves. He had not had a cigarette since this morning. Just a small drag would do him some good. A whole cigarette would make his day.

“This task requires more trust than we’re willing to give you,” Antoine told the youngest Spy, dryly.

“I understand that but-” the Italian tried to persuade them, but Antoine was not having any of his protests.

“This is not a question of whether you would willingly turn in the information, or even try to kill them,” Antoine explained. He stopped to light himself a cigarette, bumming a light from Hugh.

With Antoine busy starting up his cigarette, Hugh took up the job of speaking, “This kind of sensitive information is not something we could trust with somebody who has never even been trained to handle interrogation.”

Antoine nodded, “If they drilled you, you might refuse. However, if it is a Spy, he will make you give him information without meaning to.”

The youth frowned, deepening the curl down of his lips in his rebellious attitude. It looked rather foreign on the mouth of a jokester. The man tended to smile a lot and make jokes. He tended to be a thorn in the side, but when he was he was usually smiling all the while.

“You demean me, and give me no credit,” the man protested like an arrogant child.

“Such is the way of Spies,” Hugh said with a dismissive shrug, “This isn’t meant to be fair. This is work.”

The world was not fair. It was cruel and heartless. They had to be ruthless to keep the people they cared about safe.

“And it’s work I’ve been doing for years!” Maurizio growled at them.

The sudden bump of the car cut him off. The Italian head bumped the ceiling of the car and he paused to rub his head, pushing his hat aside. He was the tallest of the three of them, putting him right at the point of constantly pushing up on the ceiling. He put his hat back in its normal place and turned his attention back to them. Hugh wondered why he did not take the hat off and let his neck have a break.

“It’s not as if I have lived as long as either of you,” the Italian admitted somberly, “And I have not been doing this as long as you, no. But I have been doing this longer than either of you had when the war came around. Give me credit where it’s due. I can be of help, and I do _want_ to help. All things considered, I don’t think you’re going to find another friend who is as willing to just be helpful for this.”

Hugh glanced at Antoine, who glanced back at him. They were not sure they could find anyone else anyways. Somebody who could help take care of Melisa? Yes, that was something they would need. After today’s plot, they would need a man to help out until they could relocate her.

“Fine,” Hugh stated dryly, as he looked back to the Italian.

“Fine?” Antoine almost spat out his cigarette.

“We may need somebody to drive anyways,” Hugh nodded to him. If nothing else, the younger Spy would make a very good distraction.

“We can drive ourselves,” Antoine growled defensively.

Hugh nodded, feeling numb as he realized that his friend was not picking up on hints, “And take care of her and the child? Not likely.”

Antoine hesitated, glaring at Hugh. They were staring at each other for a long time while Antoine absorbed this information. It slowly seeped into his mind and the ideas must have finally sparked. Like a suddenly started nodding like he finally understood the plan.

“We can’t always be there,” Hugh went on, gesturing towards Maurizio, “Somebody who can simply drive from place to place would be helpful to them.”

“Melisa can drive, you know,” Antoine’s eyes narrowed more.

“Yes, but would it be safe for her to show her face in any car?” Hugh pressed, wishing his partner would catch up on the cues. Apparently he had not fully understood the concept that he was trying to drop in with this younger Spy being a distraction.

“In a reasonable situation, she could hide in the back seat of any car,” Maurizio nodded his agreement, “And as small as it is, if driving is helpful, then I’ll do that.”

“If you-” Hugh started, but was hissed to silence by the second.

The door to the vehicle opened to show a butler’s attire on the outside. A small girl with a green and tan doll dress climbed into the limousine next to Maurizio, before Grey Mann climbed in on her other side. The three Spies were silent as the girl settled herself between the withered old man and Maurizio.

Hugh and Antoine looked from each other to Maurizio. Maurizio gave them a little shake of his head. Good boy, Hugh thought. Just be silent and do not say a damn thing about what was going to happen.

The door closed and they all shifted in their seats. The vehicle started moving again and all of the Spies took on a relaxed posture. In their natural state of fooling the man they worked for, while he was obviously aware that they were putting on airs, none of them felt bothered by the fact that the man held a briefcase, which no doubt contained papers and other bits of evidence pertaining to his plans.

Little by little, the Spies working for Grey Mann had been collectively working out what he was planning. None of them had the full story. Some of them were holding out. All of them had different goals for what they knew.

Hugh’s goals were less focused on Grey Mann. If anything, that was something for Miss Pauling to figure out. It would be helpful to them, sure. Right now, he needed to focus on Melisa. This would leave extraction of information from Grey Mann to Antoine.

“Our meeting today is regarding some things,” Grey Mann’s words interrupted Hugh’s thoughts.

The little girl between the youngest Spy and Grey was wriggling. She was uncomfortable with the current seating situation, tending to prefer more room than even this spacious vehicle allowed her. Tolerating her every time they had to meet with Grey was exhausting, but their boss seemed insistent that his great granddaughter was to stay with him wherever he went.

“Grandfather! I’m claustrophobic!” she whined.

“I can move,” Maurizio tried to make himself as small as possible against the door at his elbow. It was just a hilariously awkward posture, given the man’s great height and disposition.

“Nonsense,” Grey gestured dismissively.

“Can we move onto what these _things_ we are meeting about are?” one of the other Spies spoke up.

“Ah yes,” Grey turned to the window.

The car became silent, waiting as it rolled to a stop. Everybody sort of leaned to look out the window, curious as to what Grey was looking for. Grey waited as somebody came to open the door. He climbed out, followed closely by his great granddaughter.

The air in the car was tense and still. None of them spoke or moved. The sensation of terror lingered as Grey Mann spoke to somebody outside. They could not pick up on what he was saying, but the depth of the voice outside told them it was to a dangerous man.

Grey looked back inside, glancing amidst the three Spies, “Which one of you is Antoine?”

There was a moment of hesitation, before the man in question raised his hand. Grey motioned for him and he climbed out. Grey said something to the person outside again. He looked back inside at the other two.

“As for you two…I hope we never meet again,” he slammed the door shut and the locks clicked.

The Italian panicked and grabbed the nearest door, trying to unlock it, “It won’t budge!”

Suddenly, the car started moving. It was going a lot faster than it had before. The breakneck speed was no doubt to get them far away from Grey.

“Fuck!” theHugh exclaimed, as he tried to open another door, “None of these doors will open!”

“Shit!” the younger man exclaimed.

Suddenly, a window dividing them from the front seat opened, “Locking mechanisms from the outside, suckers!”

Hugh exchanged a look with the other man. There was nothing said in words, but the unspoken panic sent them both at the window. The younger Spy grasped the sliding window to prevent it from closing, while Hugh reached through to grab the driver by the throat. Still speeding along, the car started to swerve as the driver panicked, unable to stay steadily on the road and get the tight grip off of his neck..

“Shit!” the Italian exclaimed in his ear, “We need to get up there.”

“This window isn’t big enough for either of us,” Hugh informed him, struggling to keep a hold of the driver’s windpipe.

“There aren’t many options here, amico!” he said, feeling panicked, “No escape and no weapons!”

“Think outside of the box!” Hugh demanded. He was unable to see what the other man was doing, but surely there was something more he could do.

“Keep him busy!” the Italian called to him, before disappearing. Hugh briefly glanced over his shoulder to see his long legs disappearing through the roof. Nobody had thought to lock the skylight.

“Come on, come on!” he muttered to himself, trying his best to keep a hard grip on the driver. The other Spy was taking too long. That Maurizio was going to get them both killed.

Suddenly, the front passenger door opened and the other Spy appeared. Letting the door swing, the younger Spy flung his legs around, using the momentum of the car. He closed his eyes as his arms reached out for the door and the roof to stop himself from falling instead of getting into the cab.

“I can do this! I can do this!” he barely heard the man murmur in fear.

As he came down, the younger man caught himself, his feet catching onto the edge of the doorway. He flung himself inside and pulled the door shut, not wanting to get pushed out. He reached over the choking man and opened his door.

The younger Spy was acting on some kind of instinct as he moved towards the driver. The driver had wide eyes and put up a hand to try and stop him. Already weak and busy with the wheel, he was unable to fend off the new attacker. His hand went to a gun that he must have forgotten, but the younger Spy grabbed that hand and twisted the gun right out of it.

“The wheel! The wheel!” Hugh shouted, struggling to keep a hold of the driver’s throat.

“Just a moment,” Maurizio positioned himself, ready to take the driver’s position in one swift movement. He took a breath and pulled back his body to throw his momentum at him, “Let go!”

Hugh’s hand released the throat and Maurizio’s entire body shoved the driver right out of the car. Without missing a beat, he grabbed the wheel and put his feet on the pedals. He brought it down to a steadier pace, slowing the vehicle by increments. Once he had fastened control of the car, he grabbed the door and pulled it shut.

“Should have worn a seatbelt,” Hugh laughed. Oh what a relief it was to be alive. Without a threat to his personal safety, it was time to think about what was going to happen to Melisa.

“Yea, no doubt,” Maurizio agreed, chuckling dryly. It was a foreign laugh that held no humor in it.

“Shit, she has to be moved,” Hugh muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Maurizio put his seatbelt on, not wanting to make the previous driver’s mistake.

“We have to get to Melisa’s house, _now_!” Hugh came to the window to speak to the younger Spy.

“What about Antony?” Maurizio asked, “Shouldn’t we go back for him first?”

“Antoine will be fine,” the man said dismissively, “Grey likely knows where Melisa is. He’ll kill _her_ and the baby.”

Maurizio gasped, realizing where this was going, “How do we get there? Where do we go?”

Hugh hesitated, “Head South. We’ll have to take the fastest route over the speed limit.”

“Alright!” Maurizio shifted gears, “Buckle up! And keep me posted about the turns!”

Much to Hugh’s surprise, this Spy had a very good handle on the car. He had this sort of natural ability to keep the car under full control, even at high speeds. At least, it seemed that he had full control. He was skilled at getting around the other cars too.

“Here it is! Left!” Hugh shouted and pointed.

The car had to flip a U turn and slow way down as they pulled into a ranch. Sheep and goats came calling as the car pulled up through the driveway. Hugh felt anxiety build up as the need to check on the woman and her girl grew strong in his chest. He had to know that she was okay. There was no way that he could know just from arriving here to find sheep.

“Unlock the door!” Hugh called to him, grabbing the door handle.

The younger Spy struggled with the controls, before he managed to unlock the doors. The car rolled to a stop as Hugh threw open his door and ran towards the house. The younger Spy parked the car and hurried after him.

Hugh knocked fervently on the door. In the back of his mind, he was hoping all hopes that they would be alright. Melisa had to be okay. Her daughter had to be alright.

The door opened and he was surprised to look down upon the little Esperanza. The precious girl held the door open, big bulbous eyes blinking up at him with wonder. Her adorable face just had this trusting love on it that humbled him.

“Where is your mother?” Hugh asked.

“She is changing the heater vents,” Esperanza replied, pointing to the door.

Hugh moved past her quickly, stepping inside. He rushed around the house, looking for Melisa. He would not start calling for her, lest he alarmed some agent of Grey that he was there.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found her in her bedroom folding laundry. He smiled when he saw her. He wanted to tell her how relieved he was. There was no time to explain it though.

“Oh! Spy!” she exclaimed with surprise, “What are you doing here?”

“No time,” he insisted, grabbing a shirt from her, “Grab the most necessary and let’s go.”

“But I…I just started folding,” she protested with disbelief in her eyes.

“We have to go now,” he insisted, pulling on her arm. She followed him to the door, where they found the other Spy and Esperanza standing outside. She did give a yelp though, quite surprised by what was going on.

He gasped when he saw more cars pull up. Grey Mann had followed them. This was not quite what was supposed to happen. He would have to take care of this accordingly though. His heart dropped as armed men leaped out of the cars. They already had large guns at the ready, pointing them at the house. Maurizio grabbed the little girl and ducked down, pulling the porch’s table down to use as a shield.

“Get down!” the Hugh yelled, just as the bullets began to pellet the house.

Esperanza was screaming in fear. She cried for her mother. Hugh could barely hear her over the sound of bullets pelleting the house. He had to wait until it was over to do anything about her screaming.

Right now, he had to keep Melisa from trying to do something about it. She struggled to get away, but he was pulling her back. She slithered out of his arms and suddenly she was in the line of fire. He stupidly started towards her too, only to find a bullet in his hip. With a cry of pain, he dropped to the ground and covered his head with his arms.

Suddenly it stopped. Pain was throbbing in his hip, and he reached to clutch at the bleeding wound. There was nothing he could do anymore. Melisa was down, with no hope of rescue.

When he looked up, a glimmer of hope shimmered through the blur of tears welling up. Esperanza was okay, face red and eyes teary as she clutched the younger Spy. The man was staring with horror and shock at the body of the girl’s mother. That emotional response was all that Hugh needed to know.

“Go!” Hugh barked at him.

“What?” the Italian looked to him, looking at his face, as if for the first time.

“Get out of here! Take her! Don’t turn back!” Hugh shouted, “Protect her no matter what!”

He did turn and go. He was slow at first, but eventually started booking it. Hugh watched him go, for as long as he could see them. He listened, hoping to a God he never worshipped or believe in that no harm would come to them.

“Mommy! Mommy!” he heard the girl scream, “I want my mommy!”

The girl quieted down. Hugh closed his eyes to listen, hoping among all hopes that she would be okay with that man. They seemed to have gotten away in time, as they were long gone by the time Grey’s men started pelting the house with bullets again.

The shooting paused as mercenaries went to chase the younger Spy down. Hugh quietly kept praying. Esperanza had to make it. His godchild had to stay safe, at all costs. He heard gunshots, but no more screaming. He hoped that she was safe and any screaming was just out of fear.

Hugh groaned at the pain, forced to focus on himself now. There was a bullet in his hip and another in his lower leg. He also had nick marks from the burns of passing bullets. He now felt all of that pain, as shock wore off.

Nearby laid Melisa’s body. She was still and lifeless. The need to be distant was gone, as the memories of her wonderful personality came flooding back to him. She was family, and now she was gone. He took a deep breath on that thought, hoping and praying that in some way a piece of her was saved by sending the girl off with Maurizio.

Footsteps came up the wooden steps of the porch. He did not have to look to know who was coming. He would have expected no less than Grey Mann and Antoine next to him.

He looked up to see that the gun pointing at his head was in Antoine’s hand. He frowned, “Your traitorous actions come with surprise.”

“You were right, he _did_ lead us right to them!” Grey smiled, mirthfully. His fingers steepled as he glared down at Hugh. He turned to look up at Antoine, whose face never changed from irrationally irritated. “Kill him,” Grey commanded.

Antoine slowly turned his eyes to the man, “You don’t want to interrogate him?”

“The two aren’t aligned,” Grey said, holding up two hands to represent two different Spies, “You said so yourself.”

“You think he knows nothing more?” Antoine asked. He was unmoving as he gazed at Grey from the corner of his eye.

“Do you think he knows where the girl has gone?” Grey growled.

“No,” Antoine shook his head just a little.

“Then kill him,” Grey turned all the way around, hands folded behind his back.

In the moment that Grey’s feet were moving, Antoine shifted his foot. Down his leg something slipped and he jolted his foot to kicked it across the porch. Hugh’s hand closed on it before Grey’s feet stopped moving, so that his old ears did not even notice the foreign noise.

“Kill him,” Grey repeated, “And then go take care of that brat in sector seventeen.”

By the time Antoine’s eyes turned back to Hugh, he had already opened the watch. He looked at the dead ringer then up at the other Spy, giving him a firm nod. The thing was ready to activate, he just needed the killing blow. He closed his eyes, preparing for the painful blast. The bullet sang and he quickly moved to get away from the dummy as well as from the house.

He leaped off of the side of the porch and ran the opposite way that Maurizio had. If Grey ever suspected this, he would have looked for him in the direction that Maurizio went. He would no doubt assume that Hugh had gone after Maurizio.

He ducked behind the neighbor’s hedges before the timer ran out. He listened carefully to the noises at the house. He dared not breathe or move from this hideaway, as Grey’s men stomped around.

“It’s done,” he heard Antoine say.

“Good,” Grey replied, “Let’s be gone from this miserable place.”


	46. Last Blood

Antoine stared blankly at the horizon. He was fighting back tears, and fighting back memories. She did not even have a chance, he thought.

He looked upon the pistol still in his hand. He still had this on him. He had come very close to being one of the ones who killed her. If she could speak to tell her story, she would probably scream of bloody murder and betrayal.

He swallowed back the pain. He could not believe he was even feeling so much because of this. Melisa was just a woman. She was just another person in his life. Still, she left a mark on his life, and the time he had spent with her, however short, meant something to him.

He tucked the pistol away as he turned his thoughts to the child. She had escaped, thank God. She would be safe as long as that Spy managed to keep things together. If he could do half so well as they hoped, then perhaps the girl would be alright. How she would have a normal life after all of this was beyond him.

For now, he could not think about that. That was not something he could worry on. Grey Mann was nearby, and he needed to give him his full attention. He had to hide any mistakes, any appearances of regretting what he had done. He did not want Grey Mann to question his loyalty for a moment, no matter how faltering it actually was.

“I leave it up to you men to get this job done,” Grey Mann said dismissively to a Sniper, “I want the area swept clean. I want them all dead.”

“Yes sir,” the Sniper replied.

Grey Mann turned to Antoine, “Let’s go.”

They climbed into the vehicle and traveled in silence. He tried as hard as he could to keep as still and stone-faced as he could. He remained silent, staring blankly at nothing.

Did Hugh not know? Was he just that lost on what the plan was? They should have discussed it more. They should have talked more thoroughly about it.

 

 

When they arrived, he was quick to take his dismissal. He did not even hesitate, making his way to his own vehicle. He got in and drove.

He did not stop driving until he reached the border to the next prefecture. There, he found an apartment complex, where he visited on occasion. He hurried inside and headed up to the eighth floor.

He knocked, giving a discreet set of taps in a pattern that the occupants would recognize. He waited patiently, listening for any noise. It took a minute before he heard the locks sliding and the door opening. He took a step back from the door, just to be cautious.

Andrew Swanson peeped out the door with a gun ready to poke out of the door. It made Antoine frown, even when the Soldier let him in. He stepped inside, not saying anything at first.

When the door closed behind him is when he spoke, “I need you to move fast. I’m unable to do anything. Hugh requires assistance. He’s in the forest, somewhere out there needing medical assistance and a-”

He cut off as a lanky man came lumbering out of the toilet, followed by the sound of flushing. He was not even ashamed, as he buckled his belt in front of everybody. Unabashed, he looked Antoine right in the eye.

“You’re not the Spy I’m looking for,” he commented.

“You’re not the man I’m looking for either,” Antoine turned to Andrew, “Where is Drake?”

“In his room watching television,” Andrew pointed a thumb towards the bedroom doors in the hall.

“Good, I need to see him,” Antoine said, eager to visit with his son. There was a sense of sentimentality that made him want to give Drake a hug.

“I cannot drive,” Andrew called his attention back to himself, “How am I supposed to find him?”

“What?” Antoine was taken aback. He never really thought about it, as it never seemed like the Soldier would actually have an issue with driving. “You don’t know how to drive?”

“No, I know how to drive,” Andrew insisted, shaking his head, “I simply cannot drive.”

“Why not?” Antoine frowned, a little frustrated.

“I…I just shouldn’t,” the Soldier shrank back, refusing to really meet Antoine’s gaze or his level.

“I’ll drive,” the Sniper interrupted, “Where does he need to go?”

Antoine turned to look to the Sniper, “He needs to go to the forests north of the offices. Others will be sweeping it looking for him. You need to find him first.”

“Is he okay?” Andrew asked, turning his head up with a look of worry.

“Let’s hope he’s still alive,” Antoine replied.

The Soldier immediately looked alarmed at that. His mouth opened, but he had nothing to say. The Sniper stepped towards him, ready to grab at his jacket.

“The hell happened over there? What were you idiots doing?” the Sniper growled.

“It’s not important,” he was not ready to tell the truth. He could not tell him what happened. Hell, the man had not even been around for so long, what was he doing here now? Why could he not have appeared days ago and whisked Melisa away while Antoine could have just felt jealousy?

“Here,” he pulled a map he brought from the car from his pocket, “This has the forest marked off on it. You’ll find him in there.”

“Great, like looking for a needle in a haystack,” the Sniper turned to the Soldier, “Let’s go.”

Without a word, the two went out the door. The Soldier looked a little pale. Maybe he was terrified. Whatever was wrong, he was not telling.

Antoine turned his attention away from that. He could not be bothered with that right now. He needed to gather himself for the next day of work. It would come sooner than he was prepared. He wanted to figure himself out before it was time to meet with Grey Mann again.

He knocked on Drake’s door softly. When he heard the commanding “Come in!” he opened the door and stepped inside. He found that Drake was watching baseball between college players. He looked up to give him a nod in greeting.

“Mind if I join you?” he gestured to the spot beside Drake.

Despite not being able to see, Drake nodded, “Sure go ahead.”

Antoine said nothing more as he took a seat next to his son. He settled down beside him and let his head fall forward. It was easier to be open around him nowadays. With his blindness, there were things he could not tell were happening. With that, he could let go of the stony expression and let the tears flow down his face. He would never know if Drake understood why he needed this time with him. Maybe he would tell him in the future. Maybe he would keep it to himself. Maybe it was better that way, then his son would never know what an awful father he really was to have endangered that child.

 

*********************************************************************

 

Hugh limped along unsteadily. This was all wrong. This was not how things were supposed to go. Antoine must have mistaken where he was planning to go. God how things had gotten jumbled in the heat of panic.

He made his way into the woods, hoping to find solace amidst the silence. He could barely keep upright though. His travel ended when he grew cold from blood loss. He laid down, unable to keep moving forward.

 

 

He slowly opened his eyes. Despite the cold, he felt somehow warm. A blanket was softly wrapped around him, keeping him comfortable. The world was dark, with tree branches looming high overhead, but nearby the crackling of a fire was lighting up the nearby area.

He turned over slowly, moving carefully. He dared not agitate his wounds any further. They were somewhat numb now though, though too numb to be from shock.

“You’re awake now, are you?” the Australian voice cut into his thoughts like a knife.

He looked over the camper parked at his side of the fire. It was sitting in the middle of the trees, with a carpet rolled out to have chairs on. Nearby, the Sniper was sitting on one of the chairs, holding a beer.

He set his beer aside, rising to his feet. He stepped towards Hugh and knelt to get closer. Hugh was sent into a panic and struggled to get out of the blanket. Two hands grabbed the blanket to pin him down.

“Calm down, mate,” the Sniper protested, “I’m here to take care of you, alright?”

Hugh did not say anything. He glared up at him, refusing to willingly submit to anything. He kept up the kicking and struggling. More or less, it was just struggling, considering how much his leg hurt to move.

“Stop wriggling,” the Sniper protested.

He stopped, submitting in compliance. It was only to keep himself from suffering more pain. If he kept kicking like this, he was going to hurt himself worse.

The two hands holding him down worked with the blanket surrounding him. He could only watch, while attempting to look like he was not watching, with dismay. The man was tying him up and keeping him down, so that he could not escape from the bundle that the Sniper had made.

“There,” the Sniper got up from his position, satisfied with his work.

Hugh looked away, keeping his gaze away from the Sniper’s. He could keep watch on him from his peripheral vision though. He could see how he was staring at him, studying his face. Those eyes gleamed from the flicker of fire.

The sinking dread truly sank in when he realized that he could feel the cool night air against his cheeks. His heart began to pound and the desire to kick and struggle rose again. He was bared to the world, most importantly, he was bared and vulnerable to the Sniper.

The man crouched, putting one knee into the dirt beside him. A work worn hand touched his chin, fingers gently taking either side. He quickly pulled up before his fingers could touch his cheeks near his mouth. He refused to be manhandled that much.

“You could just look at me,” the Sniper snorted in derision.

He took a breath and spared the man’s face a glance. He had such a disgustingly self-satisfied look on his face. His thumb stroked the edge of his jaw appreciatively.

“That’s what I like to see,” the Sniper cooed.

“What do you want?” Hugh replied, keeping his voice calm and smooth.

“What do I want?” he looked incredulous at that, “I want what every man wants mate!”

“That didn’t answer my question,” Hugh furrowed his brow.

“Every man’s got to have his hobbies,” the Sniper’s hand moved up his cheek, his thumb stroking the cheekbone beneath his eye, “Mostly I like killing things and making them scream. Feels good when they scream.”

The upturn of his lips sent a cold chill down his body. He refused to swallow, as the Sniper was close enough to see his throat move. It would just feed his little power frenzy.

“You’re a bit different,” he tilted his head, “I always like having one I can keep around.”

“You do this to every man who strikes your fancy?” Hugh retorted, fighting with his pride to keep still and keep his eyes on the Sniper. He had no dignity left laying here submitting to the man’s power.

“A few here and there,” he tilted his head back and forth as he spoke, bobbing his head as he thought about it, “You get real used to somebody and they become a comfort. Sometimes even kind of…make you a better person…maybe. Then there’s the ones who thought you’d change so they run around screaming. And the ones who just try to run because they’re too stupid.”

Hugh wished he could lean back, his head pressed hard into the soft cushion behind his head. The look on the Sniper’s face changed and it was terrifying. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, running faster and faster. He dared not give away any sign of it though, as it would just give the Sniper what he really wanted and more.

“I’ve learned to be better at the chase,” the Sniper grinned shrewdly.

“You mean the hunt?” Hugh corrected, bitterly.

“Is there a difference?” the Sniper shrugged, “Frankly, I think you’re my best catch yet. When you catch a rare beaut, you don’t keep throwing your dangerous traps at it. You lull it in softly.”

“You’re not on the soft side,” Hugh retorted snidely.

The Sniper grinned at him, shining those big teeth at him. That grin looked stupid and only made Hugh hate him more. Staring up at that face, he tried to imagine all of the ways that he could break the bones beneath his stupid mug.

“I don’t intend to let you go,” the Sniper shifted, suddenly sitting on Hugh’s chest, “I don’t intend to hurt you either. I’ll have to keep using the most advanced tactics to keep you.”

“You’re not very good at this,” Hugh retorted, trying to pretend the pressure did not affect his lungs.

“Very good at what?” all of the joyous smiling was lost from his face.

“People,” Hugh explained, “Socializing.”

“I get on fine,” the man argued, “People don’t know any better. Easy to fool. Even that boy you were fawning over. The one from the bakery? He was pretty stupid too.”

Hugh did his best not to grimace or wince in pain. He also did his best not to let on that he remembered that young man. He was kind young man who was just doing his job at a bakery.

“Everybody wants something from you,” the Sniper explained, “Be it a smile or a kind word. Compliment one man and he’s your greatest ally.”

“Is that how you got the doctor to help you on your exploit?” Hugh gasped through the crushing of his lungs.

The Sniper rose off of him, letting him have his breath. He quickly took it, not daring to take it for granted again. His weak lungs could not cope the way normal lungs might have.

“Maybe,” the Sniper admitted, “You could learn a thing or two from me about being nice you know.”

“Thing about being nice,” Hugh had no emotion in his voice, keeping bland and cold, “No matter what day and age it is, niceness is just a fruity mask. It’s a coloring over the face you truly have. It makes your colors mute in the face of those you need something from, like compliance or assistance. Being so kind is what gets you…noticed.”

“You Spies generally don’t like being noticed do you?” the Sniper grinned down at him.

“I knew what you were from the first time I heard you speak,” Hugh retorted, “I didn’t need all of this. I knew what you were. I stayed away. You wouldn’t leave well enough alone.”

The Sniper reached over to pat the top of his hair. He tried to shake the hand off, feeling offended by it. He was not a dog he could pat on the head.

“And look where we are now!” the Sniper got to his feet and walked over to pick up his beer, “I’m here. You’re here. We’re both here. And I’ve got you!”

Something that seemed to have slipped the Sniper’s mind was that a Spy in the middle of the woods was bound to be armed. His gun was tucked away a bit far, and it would be hard to use here. However, he did have an arsenal of knives at his disposal. Keeping his face calm and stony, he carefully moved his hand to cut the blanket around his shoulders. He watched carefully as the Sniper went on talking, using his voice to cover the sounds.

Relief struck when he cut the last threads free. He looked up to see that the Sniper was turned away. He had a beer in one hand and was adding some fuel to the fire with the other.

With what little time he had, he scrambled from the blanket and turned on his cloak and dagger. With the sound being audible, of course the Sniper turned to try and catch whoever was cloaking. He was too late, as Hugh moved around the camper truck, slowly and careful not to make too much noise.

The Sniper put his bottle down and hurried over, listening for where he might have gone. Hugh was already paused, unmoving and still. He watched as the paranoid man bent his knees and became a hunter.

“Here kitty kitty,” the Sniper purred, “I know you’re still here.”

There was a long pause before the Sniper turned and reached out, as if to grab at something. He grabbed air, instead of a Spy. Hugh was much farther away, and slightly amused at the attempt.

“Slippery little fucker, aren’t you?” the Sniper asked, with a terribly joyous grin on his face.

There was more silence, as the Sniper moved with silent steps. He made his way ever so quietly around the campsite. He came close though, edging closer and closer to Hugh.

He held his breath, not daring to give away his position. Even a little noise could have given it away. Whatever he did, he had to keep the Sniper from finding him. It would help to keep him frantic in his search to find him.

“Come out!” the Sniper cried out, turning quickly towards the trees in another attempt to catch a Spy off guard.

Hugh was vaguely amused, watching the man walk around his campsite like this. He was so paranoid he was certain that the Spy was sneaking up behind him. He leaned against the bumper of the truck to watch the scene.

Eventually, he tired of this. He was cleverer than the Sniper was giving him credit for. He was not the kind of Spy who only snuck up on people from behind. On the contrary, he knew how to make things happen.

When the Sniper rounded the campsite again, making his way around the side of the camper opposing the fire, Hugh stepped towards the flames. He was careful not to let his cloak down, lest the noise alerted the Sniper. It was not time yet.

He poked around what the man had out and about at the moment. With very little need to search, he picked up some rope. No doubt he had some intentions of using it on Hugh. Why else would he have had it here?

He tied it to a leg of the awning projected off the camper’s side. He moved quickly as he jerry rigged the other leg to break. The Sniper soon came around the camper, meaning that it was time to put his plan into motion.

He let his cloak drop for a very short moment before quickly turning it on again. It was enough to alarm the Sniper. While Hugh was slowly walking around the fire, the Sniper was bolting towards the spot he had seen the smoke. As he passed the awning, his foot caught the rope. It tripped him, adding for an extra flavor of fun for the Spy.

He watched as the Sniper got straightened up and turned to his awning. He must have been so puzzled by what just happened. The only thing that puzzled Hugh was the pause. He looked up just in time to see the tension snap in the awning. The awning snapped and a leg went up, slashing the Sniper.

He cried out in pain as he stumbled backwards. His leg was caught up in the rope, tripping him as he fell backwards. He landed upon the burning logs and screamed in a fiery pain.

Hugh dropped his cloak and lit a cigarette. He watched as the Sniper tried to roll away from the fire. He even tried to put the fire out on himself. He almost managed it, until Hugh broke open his own cigarette lighter to pour the fuel out over him.

The screams raised higher as the Sniper tossed relentlessly. Hugh took a step back, putting a safer distance between himself and the burning man. He did not even see a point in getting up off of the ground, relentlessly trying to put out the flames by beating himself and rolling on the ground.

“Help me!” the Sniper called out in desperation.

“Burn in hell,” Hugh growled in disdain.

He watched as the Sniper tossed and moved about more rapidly. The fire began to spread, jumping from the campfire’s area. It reached the truck’s tires, prepped to melt the rubber.

He turned and started walking away. It was more of a limp, but he dared not stay here too long. He had nothing to stop the flames, but it was about to get out of control. He had seen enough forest fires in his time to know how bad this was going to get.

He walked for a long time. He did not know how long it was. All he knew was that he had to ignore that dull throb in his leg. He had to keep going and get away from this area.

He stepped out of a copse of trees into the open. It happened to be a dirt path, with tire marks worn into either side from when it was mud. He froze, startled by the sound of a truck tearing down the road.

He leaped out of the way as a truck came skidding across the dirt to a stop. He was holding his breath as he backed away. He was quickly debating whether to flee or give up. There was no chance of escape by running on his wounded leg. Whether they would spare his life or not was questionable.

“Get in this truck, maggot!” an American voice cut through the air.

He gasped, looking at Andrew hanging out of the opened door. He recognized the beat up old camper truck. He smiled as he recognized the Sniper in the driver’s seat. He rushed to join them, squeezing in between the two of them before the Sniper peeled out.

“I can’t believe we actually found him,” the Sniper chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the story.  
> It is not the final stage for our surviving mercenaries.
> 
> Author's thoughts:  
> I have never felt this way about the character commentary on a story of mine before. Usually I make bad guys who are good people. Good guys who are bad people too. This one took a lot of research from real life experiences from people I have known and even my own.
> 
> Xavier Hackley is not a bad guy. He is a serial killer. He is not good people, he is a fake. He is prone to violence when things don't go his way. He fakes kindness and pulls off "good deeds" to keep a decent repertoire.
> 
> In the end, what is wrong with him? A dysfunctional moral compass. The first time Hugh met Xavier was modeled after my own experience. A stalker tries for your attention, you decide to back away and avoid a toxic person, but toxic people pursue, push and demand attention.
> 
> I lived with this for a good long year. It is very much a lot of internalized fear, pressure from society that sides with a stalker with social power, and the confliction that makes your brain question what you want, erasing bits and pieces of your identity as your life becomes centered around getting away from that toxic person. Be yourself and keep away, or give up and give them what they want.
> 
> Having a situation like this is isolating. Not many people experience it and try to advise you on how to handle it. They tell you to do this or that. They tell you to ignore this "problem" and pretend it's not there. Or they tell you to stop being cruel and give that person a chance because they are good in the eyes of society.
> 
> Because it does not seem to be clear to some readers, I feel I have to make this blunt. Apparently putting smaller bits of information wasn't enough. Having an informed character say "THIS PERSON IS BAD!" wasn't enough. I have to come forward and tell you "THIS CHARACTER IS BAD!"
> 
> To those who have experienced these things, you're not alone. I hope you find resources that you need for support for such situations.
> 
> In regards to Xavier Hackley, he was referenced as being a bad person. He was insinuated in a murder. He sexually assaulted the main character and murdered a man in broad daylight. So here you go. This ending should be enough to spell it out that THIS. IS. NOT. A. GOOD. PERSON.
> 
> I do not forgive anyone who sides with a stalker, let alone a murderer, rapist and abuser. Not even a little.


End file.
